The Sins of the Father
by Paper Pearls
Summary: What Draco has told his son about the Malfoy family name and its meaning differs greatly from the reality experienced by Scorpius when he begins at Hogwarts. Scorpius decides to use all of his cunning, the one Malfoy trait he can rely on, to lean more.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is my response to **_**Juniperwing's**_** "The Meaning of Names" challenge, and is dedicated to my friend, Love From A Muggle, in celebration of her good work on the Hogwarts Online forum. My character is Lucius Malfoy, and for those of you who didn't know, his forename is derived from the Latin word 'Lux', meaning light.**

**OoOoO**

"_Welcome to the family jewels_

_Coal to diamonds, sold to fools._

_Welcome to the family jewels_

_Simmer and suffer, can't keep his cool."_

**-Marina and the Diamonds, 'The Family Jewels'**

Throughout his life, Scorpius had been made increasingly aware of one thing; the Malfoy name. He had to conduct himself appropriately both in public and in private, because it was _the Malfoy way_. He had been told that he had to be consistently successful, because it was _the Malfoy way_. Theirs was a great family; his father had told him before he had boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time, and so he should be proud of it regardless of the comments that would inevitably be made by others. As his mother embraced him, Scorpius looked to his father over her shoulder – he had wanted confirmation before clinging to his mother, showing a little of the fear that had been growing inside him as September drew closer – only to find that he was staring into the distance, a slight sneer upon his face. Distressed as he was, Scorpius' usual perceptiveness had failed to kick in as he surrendered himself to making the most of his last moments with his mother for the foreseeable future.

Although they had slipped from his mind during the excitement of his journey to Hogwarts, Scorpius was soon given an altogether unpleasant reminder of his father's words.

_Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin – please, please, Slytherin._

This had been his mantra as he had approached the Sorting Hat; after all, it was the Malfoy way. His wish had been granted as soon as the tattered material had touched the tip of his head, and in his state of jubilation, the comparatively weak levels of applause almost escaped his notice. Almost.

As he had sat down at his house table, where he belonged, Scorpius heard a raised voice call out; "Just like his father, that one!"

Laughter erupted and more catcalls followed, even after the Headmaster called for silence. Indignant, Scorpius had turned to face whoever it was that had insulted him (and worse, his father) with their backhanded comment. If he had known how to use his wand, he would have waited until the unfortunate individual left the hall and hexed them. What he saw forced Scorpius to cease plotting. James Potter the second, seated over at the Gryffindor table and surrounded by friends, sent him a cocky grin. In that moment, Scorpius had started to understand the status quo.

Malfoys were not great, as his father had led him to believe.

The Potters and the Weasleys, on the other hand, were.

The glory and the grandeur that his life was built upon was nothing more than a delusion of his father's. But where had it come from?

This was the question that plagued Scorpius throughout his first year.

Trying to push the doubts from his mind, Scorpius had wondered what his father's response to James Potter's never-ending taunts and jibes would be, and allowed the answer to guide him. He pictured the cold glint of fury that would occasionally appear in his father's eyes when an unpleasant situation arose and resolved to be similarly fearless – what did he care that James Potter was older and more experienced with magic? Their duel was observed by a considerable portion of the school, and when he sliced open James' cheek, Scorpius felt a satisfaction unparalleled as a rivulet of shocking red liquid had rolled down his opponent's cheek.

Scorpius' malicious pleasure had lasted until his father's owl had arrived from home, bringing with it a letter and what he could only interpret as cruelty.

Instead of being proud that his son had taken his duty to defend their family name so seriously, especially in light of recent allegations, Draco had filled two sheets of parchment with every form of the word "ashamed" known to the English-speaking world. And it had hurt. Scorpius ached with the bruising injustice of it all, and being a "spectacular disappointment" (as outlined in the closing lines of his father's letter) was considerably more painful than any one of James Potter's juvenile insults.

Of course, he continued to stand his ground – it wouldn't do to lose face, especially not to the swaggering, posturing Potter heir. It was impossible to imagine his methodical, analytical father from backing down, and so Scorpius wouldn't let himself allow anyone, let alone James Potter the second, get away with taunting him. However, his heart wasn't in it. Their rivalry meant very little in light of the revelation that his family were considered to be little better than traitors. Scorpius had stopped believing that his conduct had any bearing on the world, or that it was important to impress others.

He worked hard in every last one of his classes because he didn't know what else there was to be done, and he tried his best to be the heir his father had raised, because to think of himself as anything less was to admit defeat. Originally, Scorpius had planned upon staying at Hogwarts until the summer holidays forced him to consider his father more carefully, but he had failed to take his mother into account. She always knew exactly what to do and say, and although she would smile and tell him that she was glad that he was making friends, Scorpius knew that she would be hurt if he didn't come back to celebrate the festive season at home. And perhaps it wouldn't be too horrible to let her kiss his forehead again, if it made her happy.

And so it was that Scorpius found himself sitting on the train, trying his best not to look dejected as the Scottish countryside flew by. The world outside of his compartment was a cold, harsh white, covered by a blanket made of snow and frost, which suited him perfectly well. If everything was a uniform in its wintery state, then he didn't have to acknowledge the fact that he was speeding towards London, drawing closer to his home with every passing second. He ignored the mundane conversation that was taking place between Nott and Zabini, instead pretending to focus on the potions textbook carefully balanced upon his lap. They had given up on trying to include him in their conversation and were, by now, used to his prolonged silences.

A knock on the door of the compartment drew Scorpius from his thoughts.

"Anything from the trolley, boys?" A wizened old witch smiled at them, causing the lines on her face to deepen, and Scorpius wondered if she was capable of standing up without the trolley she was pushing.

"Pumpkin pasty." Nott managed a disdainful sneer as he handed over the correct money. The witch's smile vanished as she slipped the money into a pouch and handed over the food.

"Nothing for us – right, Scorpius?" Zabini shot him a curious glance, which Scorpius ignored save for a slight nod of his head. His stomach was churning, and the last thing that he needed was some kind of overly sweet food to contribute to his nausea.

Resting his head against the soothing cool of the window pane, Scorpius saw his friends exchange a worried look. It seemed unlikely that either one of them had been raised to believe in the greatness of their own heritage – his father had told him that the Notts and Zabinis were respectable, but not that they were important. Then again, he hadn't been right about everything.

Now that he knew his father wasn't infallible, the world seemed a lot less solid. Things didn't fit into the neat little boxes that he'd imagined. Scorpius closed his eyes and didn't wake up until the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station. The train became increasingly noisy as students thundered through the corridor, luggage and pets in tow, eager to be reunited with their families. After taking his trunk down from the overhead rack, Scorpius joined the queue leaving the train, his frustration mounting as he was jostled by people on every side. It was too hot, too loud and he wanted to be alone. Sadly, that wasn't a possibility.

Despite the way he dragged his trunk along behind him and did everything in his power – surprisingly little – to avoid looking for his parents in the crowd. Against his better wishes, Scorpius' eyes were drawn to his father's pale blonde hair, and when he saw the pure delight on his mother's face, he couldn't help but feel churlish for attempting to stall. Inwardly cursing decorum, he hoped that she understood why he could only increase his pace and not break into the ungainly run that so many of his peers had opted for.

"Scorpius!" Astoria Malfoy pulled him close, planting a brief kiss onto his forehead before pushing him back slightly in order to better examine him. "I _am_ glad to see you again."

"Yes, Mum." Surreptitiously, he wiped the smudge of her dark red lipstick from his brow, grateful when she shrunk and pocketed his trunk.

"Son." Draco nodded, and Scorpius realised that he would have to acknowledge his father.

"Dad." He tried not to let his bitterness show, to keep his voice suitably expressionless. The last thing that his father would want was a gushing display of emotion, which suited Scorpius perfectly well – although he had always been taught to keep a tight rein on his feelings, he didn't think that he'd manage to stop his anger from spilling into a prolonged conversation.

"Shall we go home now?" His mother placed a gloved hand on Scorpius' back and guided him from the platform, oblivious to his inner-turmoil as she filled him in with the goings on of her life. Ahead of them, his father stalked through the crowd, cutting an impressive figure in his rich black travel robes. "Scorpius, are you listening to me?"

Astoria shook her head good-naturedly, rolling her eyes.

"Yes mum." He gave a weak smile, feeling guilty that he wasn't really paying her any attention at all. She had answered every one of his homesick letters without mentioning them to his father, and sent him everything he had forgotten to pack without having to be asked.

"How about you tell us about your time in school? It's been years since your father and I last saw the Slytherin common room, so we want to hear every detail." Astoria paused, her bright blue eyes flickering towards her husband. "Don't we, Draco?"

Scorpius tensed as his father slowed his pace to walk alongside them. The family passed through the barrier and into the muggle world, and he could tell from the slight wrinkling of his father's nose that he was not impressed by the sight of the non-magical domain. As Scorpius watched the muggles queue, using their tickets to open the metal turnstiles, he couldn't help but think of cattle.

"Certainly." Draco's eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly as though to say he thought the conversation unnecessary, and Scorpius knew that nothing he could say would interest his father more than the various goings on of the Ministry. He felt disinclined to share his thoughts, especially considering the way in which his father's eyes had already started to cloud over with disinterest. However, he couldn't afford to rock the boat; Scorpius was too afraid of all the things that could go wrong.

"I think that Potions is my favourite class, although I don't think that old Slughorn thinks much of me, because -"

"_Professor_ Slughorn, Scorpius." His mother shot him a disapproving look. For a moment, Scorpius looked towards his father to see if he too objected to the disregard of the Potions Master's honorific title, but Draco was staring straight ahead. Scorpius huffed angrily, his breath rising before him in a rush of fine mist.

"Fine. I don't think that _Professor_ Slughorn thinks much of me. That's not much of a surprise, though – his precious Slug Club is packed full of Weasleys, and that -"

"Then you have failed to prove to him that you are their better, Scorpius." There was an underlying edge to Draco's voice, quiet so that it didn't echo around the station's sandstone walls. Although his father hadn't raised his voice, the words jarred Scorpius.

Adjusting his robes to better protect himself from a sudden, sharp breeze, Scorpius allowed himself to fall behind. He could hear his mother reprimanding his father over the foreign sounds of the station, her voice soft yet urgent. Draco grunted in response before turning away from her – it was obvious that his father was searching for him. Realising that Scorpius had fallen behind, Draco paused and turned to face him, extending one of his large hands. Ducking his head, Scorpius approached rapidly and allowed his father to grasp his shoulder. On his father's index finger was, as always, a silver snake's body, coiled into a ring. In its mouth glittered an emerald the size of a raisin held in place by both of the carefully sculpted fangs.

"Let's go home, shall we?" With false cheer, Astoria led them out of Kingscross Station and out into the street. His mother's soft blonde curls and rosy cheeks looked out of place in the dirty city, but she stepped around the litter that blew into her path as though it wasn't there, ignoring the dilapidation of the alleyway they had chosen.

She winked at Scorpius before disapparating, leaving him alone with his father. A faint hint of her jasmine perfume reached his nose, soured slightly by the nearby rubbish bins.

"Are you ready?" Draco's frown deepened when Scorpius remained silent. Realising that provoking his father was never a good idea, especially without his mother to divert his attention, Scorpius jerked his head, giving a stiff little nod. "Good."

Scorpius squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the unpleasant sensation brought about by apparating. He felt his insides contract, as though he was being crushed. For a fraction of a second the pressure was almost unbearable, but then it was gone as suddenly as it had come. When he opened his eyes, Scorpius was greeted by the familiar sight of his own home.

The foyer was spacious yet warm, with a large fire burning behind the grating, and it had been decorated in honour of the holiday season. Scorpius recognised his mother's tasteful hand behind the pine tree in the corner, adorned with red velveteen bows and slender white candles, and there were garlands of holly attached to the panelled walls at regular intervals.

"What do you think, Scorpius?" Astoria gestured to the decorations as she descended the stairway, her fur coat and gloves nowhere to be seen – he guessed that she had put them away manually, a task his father believed to be the responsibility of their servants – their absence revealing a set of deep green dress robes that matched the ornaments perfectly. Draco gave her an indulgent smile.

"Really nice, mum. You've done a great job." He grinned. It occurred to Scorpius that her outfit suggested his parents were heading out to socialise. "Are you going anywhere special this evening?"

Astoria's smile dimmed, and she clasped her hands as though uncomfortable.

"Well, only if you don't mind. We wouldn't want you to be lonely." His mother regarded him carefully as though to determine whether or not he required her company.

"Merlin's beard, Astoria, the boy's eleven years old; he can look after himself for a couple of hours." His father took a few steps towards the staircase, stopping by Scorpius' side. "Can't you?"

It was a little disappointing that he wouldn't have the opportunity to eat with his parents, but Scorpius reasoned that he could begin looking for some kind of clue that his father wasn't really suffering from delusions of a grandeur that didn't exist.

"Of course, father." Scorpius tried his best to look as though the idea of being alone didn't bother him at all, and it earned him a thin smile. Although his father loved him, praise was hard to come by, and he found himself savouring the moment of understanding between them.

"As I had thought. He'll be just fine." The matter settled, Draco continued up the stairway and into the depths of their townhouse, presumably to get ready.

For a moment Astoria appeared uncertain. She looked Scorpius over, as though checking for some unknown quality, and nodded.

"Your father's right – my little boy's growing up." Astoria sighed, and he hoped desperately that she wouldn't become overly emotional. Scorpius poked his tongue out in disgust. Much to his amusement, Astoria returned the gesture. It was the kind of thing that passed between them only when his father was elsewhere. "Oh, _alright_, I'll stop embarrassing you. I was going to suggest that we had hot chocolate before I need to go out, but you're probably too adult to spend time with your boring old mother -"

"No." Scorpius flushed as he realised how much feeling he had injected into that one word. He really, really did want to continue with their tradition of hot chocolate and a slice of cake on the harshest days of winter. Even on the days that weren't too cold to venture outside. "That would be nice."

"I think so too." Astoria beckoned for him to follow her up the stairs. "I've missed you, Scorpius."

Although he didn't reply, Scorpius willed his mother to understand that he had missed her during every single one of the days that he had spent at Hogwarts. He decided that his research could wait – he was going to enjoy his afternoon.

**OoOoO**

They were gone and he had hours on end to comb through the house in search of answers – it was the best possible outcome that he could have hoped for, yet a small part of Scorpius wished that his parents had stayed. Shaking his head to banish all such foolish thoughts, he went down the stairs and into the formal living room, trying his best to ignore how quiet the house was in comparison to the castle. Although the constant chatter of Hogwarts had grated on his nerves, Scorpius had found it strangely reassuring.

He had never spent much time in the room – it was where his parents and their guests retreated to with guests after dinner – and because of this, Scorpius decided that it was a good enough place to start looking for things that his father had purposefully hidden from him. Scanning the books stacked on the walls, Scorpius saw only a couple of books on wizarding genealogy that could prove useful. Carefully, he lifted the leather-bound tomes from the shelves and set them down before the fire.

The first dealt primarily with the theory of blood purity, and although Scorpius found it intriguing, it wasn't what he was looking for – however, it took him a while to realise this as the pages were yellow with age and crackled ominously when he turned them. Scorpius was careful despite his irritation; his father would be less than impressed if he returned home and found a potentially priceless antique book ruined. Although it was tempting to toss the book into the fire, Scorpius closed it gently and returned it to its place on the shelf.

The second book, a slim and slightly tattered hardback, was much more useful. The first few pages opened out to provide extensive family trees with titles that he recognised; _Avery, Black, Bones, Greengrass, Malfoy, Nott, Parkinson, Rookwood_... and they were all interconnected by a branch or two. Strangely enough, beside the name _Weasley_, the words 'blood traitor' had been written in a flowing script that Scorpius couldn't recognise. It appeared that the author of the note had also scored out every member of the family following Septimus and Cedrella Weasley, which meant that it couldn't have been published within Scorpius' lifetime – not one of the Weasleys that he went to school with were mentioned; nor were Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, arguably the clan's most famous additions by marriage.

Placing a finger against the name Malfoy, Scorpius traced his finger through the intricate pattern, searching for his father. Sure enough, the name _Draco Malfoy_ was near the bottom of the page, written in the same curling font that had annotated the Weasley section. Above it was Narcissa, whose name was linked to both the Black and Malfoy trees. She had died the year before his birth, at fifty one years of age. In the space where his father's father – Scorpius' _grandfather_ – should have been, someone had all but vandalised the book. Angry strokes of a quill in bright red ink, the colour of blood, had nearly worn through the page, leaving no hint of the name beneath.

Beside this, in the same ink, was the word '_disgraced_'. It had clearly been written by his father's hand. He couldn't tell if there was a date of death or not, beneath the scribble.

"Scourgify!" Scorpius tapped his wand against the parchment. The page rippled slightly, but nothing else happened. He tried a few other spells, none of which were successful.

Giving up, he flicked through the pages. There were notes on each family, and in the back there was a concise list of family members who had been blacklisted. After checking each of them, including Andromeda Tonks – who was, he discovered, still living and sister to Narcissa – Scorpius realised that not one of them was a candidate for his grandfather.

Scorpius could think of only two options; contact Andromeda Tonks, who was bound to know the identity of her own brother-in-law, or keep looking. He didn't fancy sending an owl to a total stranger, especially not one that has father would most likely consider to be an enemy (even though she was his aunt, according to the book), and there was plenty of time to kill until his parents returned, so Scorpius decided to continue his search.

Briefly, Scorpius considered putting back the book with the family trees, but he wanted to read more of it later on. Besides, inscribed on the flyleaf was the name Brutus Malfoy, which meant that it didn't technically belong to his father. It was shaky logic at best, but Scorpius felt as though he had as much claim to it as any other Malfoy.

He climbed to his feet left the warmth of the fireside behind, the book clenched in one hand, as he entered the corridor. The formal lounge was an acceptable place for Scorpius to be, in the sense that he had never been told that he wasn't allowed to be there, but his destination was another matter altogether. His father's study was strictly off limits. Even his mother hesitated before interrupting Draco when he was there. Scorpius didn't know what it was that his father did in there, other than work for the Ministry, and he could count the number of times he had been in the room using his fingers. Every one of his previous visits had been supervised – in fact, they had been specifically requested by his father because Scorpius had either misbehaved or achieved something or other.

As he approached the mahogany surface of the door, Scorpius wondered how he would be punished if his father found out that he had managed to sneak into his private study. He couldn't recall having done anything worse than breaking and entering, not even the time he had, at age seven, called Carol Creevey a filthy half-blood.

It was a term that he had heard his father use with more vehemence in his voice than Scorpius had ever heard, at that time in his life, and he had known by the way that his mother had become flustered afterwards, the way that his father had bowed his head and gritted his teeth, that it was a bad word. A taboo word. And when his father had taken great pains to explain to him, with a forced joviality in his voice, that whether someone was muggleborn or of non-magical decent was irrelevant to their skill or value, Scorpius had known instinctively that it was a touchy subject.

And touchy it had been.

His father had been livid, asking over and over again where people were supposed to assume his child had picked up such language. The rest of it hadn't made much sense, and all Scorpius had been able to think about was whether or not his father would still love him, in that distant way of his that was less reliable than his mother's, after what he had done. And how he was to be punished. When he had sent a pleading glance to his mother, who could generally be relied upon to prevent even the most severe of punishments, she hadn't been looking at him. Her eyes had taken on a glazed look, and the corner of her mouth was trembling as though her smile was broken and trying to right itself.

That hadn't been the worst of it; instead of shutting Scorpius in his room or insisting that he give up his broom, his father had stopped shouting long before any kind of punishment could be given. He had sagged over his desk, lifeless, and clasped his hands behind his head. He had looked weak and vulnerable – not at all like the figure of permanent strength that Scorpius had imagined him to be – which was worse than going to bed without dinner, or even provoking his father into to crossing the line that had never been crossed and hitting him.

His mother had ushered him from the room, caressing his father's back and whispering into his ear as though she could encourage him to be invincible once more. Scorpius had bolted from the study, not quite sure what it was that he was afraid of witnessing, and certain that something altogether bigger and more adult than he could understand was happening – a force more powerful than his parents had entered his home, and it scared him.

Blinking in order to rid himself of the memory, Scorpius reminded himself that he was eleven, not seven, and old enough to live away from home. His grip had subconsciously tightened around his wand.

"Alohomora." Unsurprisingly, the door didn't open. Trust his father to have wards in place. Of course, his magic wouldn't be nearly powerful enough to break through them. The thought left a bitter taste in Scorpius' mouth.

Impulsively, he tapped the handle with the tip of his wand, and was ready to walk away when the door swung open. The dim light of the corridor barely dented the absolute darkness inside the study. With a flick of his wand, Scorpius lit the candles inside the room. He stepped across the threshold before he could change his mind, aware that valuable time was ticking away – he had assumed that his parents would return in the early hours of the morning, but really they could appear at any given time. Especially considering how anxious his mother was to care for him now that he had returned.

The room was slightly smaller than Scorpius remembered, and there were more books than he had anticipated on the shelves.

Scorpius felt the back of his neck prickle. It was almost as though he was being observed. Intent on his investigation remaining a private matter, he rounded his father's desk and closed the curtains, shutting out the neon glow of the streetlights. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the room's appearance, yet the thought that he was being observed couldn't be quashed. Scanning the room, Scorpius noticed a second, smaller pair of curtains, cut from the same material. There couldn't possibly be a window behind curtains that size...

Telling himself that he wasn't nervous in the slightest, Scorpius approached, dragging his feet on the carpet. His heart was hammering much closer to the vicinity of his throat than his chest cavity, and as he reached out to push back the material, Scorpius saw that his hand was trembling. Irked by his body's apparent unwillingness to cooperate, he yanked the curtains back in one swift motion.

There was nothing remotely terrifying about what they had concealed. It was a portrait of a rather beautiful woman, probably a little older than his father was now. She had long blonde hair that seemed to glow due to a source of light that he couldn't see, and her dress robes were made of a sheer black material, the ruffles of which had been painted as intricately as every other aspect of the woman. The darkness of her well-tailored outfit only served to highlight the paleness of her skin. She was seated in a room that he didn't recognise – it appeared to be more spacious and stately than even his own home, richly furnished in a style that Scorpius couldn't name.

She was looking directly at him with slightly narrowed eyes, her bright blue eyes suggesting a keen mind.

"H- Hello," Scorpius coughed, not used to stammering, "How do you do?"

"You're not Draco." It was a statement laced with curiosity. The woman ignored his question, tilting forward and perching her chin on her hand in one fluid motion. There was something almost dangerous about her elegance.

"No, no. I'm..." Scorpius couldn't quite bring himself to identify Draco as his father, and would have been content to lapse into an uncomfortable silence were it not for the woman in the portrait's next words.

"You're Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy – I know that." Her expression softened slightly, but this did nothing to soothe Scorpius; she had been expecting his father, and would most likely tell him about their exchange.

"How?" Fear spiked his voice with a hint of aggression. The woman raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. It was a disturbingly familiar gesture.

Glancing downwards, Scorpius saw that there was no plaque to identify the subject of the portrait.

"Draco told me. I've been expecting you, although I hadn't imagined that it would take you nearly this long to come to me. I was told that you were a bright young man." Her lip curled in what could only be described as a mocking sneer.

"Yes, well – hang on, my _father _said that?" It was Scorpius' turn to scowl. He folded his arms, pressing the reassuringly firm form of the book against his chest.

"Amongst other things, yes." The woman appeared unconcerned by his anger, which made Scorpius bristle. She was so... haughty. "Tell me, what brings you here?"

"Is there any reason that I shouldn't be?" Scorpius lifted his head with all of the Malfoy pride that he could muster, which was no easy task. It certainly didn't help that the witch in the portrait shifted so that her mouth was covered by her long fingers – Scorpius could have sworn that he'd heard a brief burst of laughter.

"Why not ask your father? Considering that this is his private office, I'd imagine that he's far better qualified to answer your question than I." To her credit, the woman in the portrait was no longer smirking or laughing at him. In fact, she was no longer looking at Scorpius at all, but rather the book clasped between his hands. "Where did you get that?"

"What's it to you?" Scorpius knew that he should try and be polite to the portrait in order to convince her not to tell his father, but he was profoundly irritated, and as a result, beyond caring.

"It was nothing to me, in life, but it was significant to another." She sighed softly, and Scorpius felt guilty for being rude to her – the witch looked rather unhappy, in that regal way of hers.

"So, you're dead then? Who owned the book?" Scorpius spoke quietly, as though addressing a volatile animal. "Brutus Malfoy?"

She favoured him with a sad smile.

"Yes, I am no longer living, and no, in my lifetime I never once met Brutus Malfoy."

"Then...?"

"Then I'm not quite certain that it's my place to tell you, Scorpius." There was something odd about the way she said his name – fondly, affectionately – when Scorpius could have sworn that he'd never met her before in his life. "Now, off to bed with you. We can continue this conversation another time."

Unsure of the correct protocol in such situations, Scorpius brushed the curtain with his fingertips. The woman observed him steadily, giving nothing away. It was as though more secrets lay behind her eyes than he could ever begin to guess.

"Hang on – what about my father?" Scorpius hesitated. He saw the witch begin to open her mouth and knew instinctively that she was going to come out with _'What about Draco?'_, or another equally condescending witticism. "Are you going to tell him that we spoke, or that you saw me tonight?"

She pursed her lips and looked upwards, as though considering the question carefully. Scorpius shifted his weight from foot to foot, acutely conscious that he was fidgeting.

"That depends on one thing – can you tell me my name?" There was a teasing light in her eyes, and Scorpius made the shocking realisation that she was beautiful.

"The name of your portrait or the name you had when you were a witch?" The look of surprise on her face was immensely satisfying.

"Touché. The name I was given when I still lived."

"How am I supposed to work that out?" Turning his back on the portrait, Scorpius began to pace back and forth like he had seen his father do. He didn't think that the repetitive motion was especially conductive to thought, but it was better than remaining stationary; doing nothing.

"_I'm_ hardly going to tell you that, dear boy."

Scorpius turned quickly, doing his best to conceal the strange mix of emotions that he caused her to feel.

"Well, who will?" Scorpius could see the grandfather clock nestled between bookshelves, and was conscious that he had spent quite a long time talking to the mystery woman in the portrait.

There was no answer. He gave in to the temptation to throw the book across the room, watching with satisfaction as it collided with his father's desk and landed on the floor. If it hadn't been the only clear cut lead that he had possessed, Scorpius would have cheerfully set it alight with his wand.

The answer hit him like a sledgehammer.

Her name would be in the book.

Dropping to his knees, Scorpius flicked through the family trees.

"Anna Rookwood?"

No answer. He continued to search frantically, looking at all deceased witches older than his father.

"Bellatrix Black – or do you prefer Lestrange?"

"Bellatrix Black... No, I'm not." A pained expression crossed the witch's face, which made him look around the name, because the answer was bound to be close by. There was a scribbled mess beside it, but it was doubtful Draco would hang up a portrait of anyone disgraced in his office.

"Narcissa Bla- _Narcissa Malfoy_?" If his guess was right, then she was his father's mother – his own grandmother.

"You're right. I -" Whatever she was about to say was cut short by the distant opening of a door. Scorpius heard his mother's laughter floating up the stairs. He scooped up the book and looked at the portrait, stricken. "Goodnight, Scorpius."

The curtains closed of their own accord, and the candles all flickered out. Scorpius left the room as quickly as he could without making any noise. Once more, he tapped the door handle with his wand and was pleased to hear the lock click shut. His parents' voices were audible, although it didn't sound like they were coming up to the floor he was on. Scorpius made his way across the hallway and up into his bedroom. He got into his pyjamas, fumbling with the buttons in his hurry, and had just managed to slip between the sheets when his mother opened the door.

"Scorpius? Are you asleep?"

He gave a yawn that wasn't forced in the slightest, the excitement of his evening catching up with him.

"No, mum. Come in." He watched as she crossed the room, stumbling slightly due to a combination of her stilettos and the champagne she would doubtlessly have been drinking since she had left. Astoria perched on the edge of his bed, stroking his fringe away from his forehead just as she had done when he was a little boy.

He was considering the merits of telling her about his research, but before he could reach a decision, Scorpius had been lulled to sleep by the familiarity of her touch.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review! More soon. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to **_**A Muggle's Love**_** for being such a considerate friend, and to everyone who has taken the time to read and review. I really, really do appreciate receiving feedback.**

**OoOoO**

"_Pass the parcel, wrap unwrap,_

_And open up the locks;_

_Out come flying all the secrets_

_Of Pandora's Box."_

**-Marina and the Diamonds, 'The Family Jewels'**

**OoOoO**

Although Scorpius enjoyed the following few days immensely, the lack of progress in his research was incredibly frustrating. His mother put a lot of effort into making sure that he enjoyed himself, and she was also determined that they spend the holiday together as a family. She was dearer to him than anything on earth, including his Hurricane 2.0 broomstick, so Scorpius squashed his resentment deep down inside himself and tried to treat his father as he always done; with respect and admiration. Not only was it difficult to continue as though nothing was amiss, but also to accept that with his father spending every day at home, a considerable chunk of each in his office, it was going to be impossible to speak to Narcissa Malfoy until the situation changed.

Try as he might, that was all he could think of her as; Narcissa Malfoy. It was uncomfortable to say the least trying to attach the term 'grandmother' to a canvas, no matter how engaging it was. She hung from his father's wall, so it seemed likely that he had enjoyed a close relationship with Narcissa during her lifetime – considering the fact that she was his father's mother, it seemed only right to Scorpius. With the exception of his mother, Astoria, Scorpius had never known his father to have any kind of personal relationship with anybody.

They had spend a formal yet pleasant Christmas together, and when he realised that his father was making an effort to be slightly less standoffish than ordinary, Scorpius couldn't help but feel better disposed towards him. The strengthening of their bond had lasted until his father had enquired about his friends.

"Naturally, a great deal of your time will be spent on learning, but who have you befriended? I trust that you associate only with those worthy of associating with the name of Malfoy?" Draco directed his most piercing stare towards his son, and although Scorpius knew that he had befriended nobody to whom his father could object, he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

He set down his cutlery and cleared his throat.

"Caesar Nott and Alexis Zabini, father – both from good families." Scorpius bit his lip, wondering whether or not it would be appropriate to mention blood status, which was clearly the underlying issue. His father nodded slowly. "There's also Bole and Pucey, although they're in the year above."

"Anyone else?" Draco continued to observe his son despite the disapproving sigh from Astoria.

"Well... I sometimes sit with Annie Warrington in the library, but..." Feeling awkward, Scorpius trailed off. He didn't quite know how to explain the problem at hand. In order to delay answering, he reached for his glass of water and took a long drink from it.

"Yes?" There was a dangerous edge to Draco's voice, and Scorpius found that he derived a hint of pleasure from seeing his father so on edge. His father deserved to feel a hint of the frustration that had been eating at him for months.

"Well... she's a _girl_, isn't she?" Trying to convey his disdain, Scorpius wrinkled his nose. He couldn't understand why his mother found this so amusing – surely, as a female, she felt slighted by his words (not that Scorpius would ever want to upset her). The tension ebbed from his father's shoulders, and his expression became as close to amicable as it generally was when he wasn't annoyed.

"One day that won't seem like such an awful thing, Scorpius." He could tell that his mother was struggling to remain straight-faced, and so refused to dignify her claim with an answer. It seemed that she didn't realise that socialising with girls simply wasn't the done thing.

"Don't go putting ideas into his head, dear. The last thing that Scorpius needs is to be distracted..." Draco continued to speak, although Scorpius has stopped paying attention.

All that he could hear was the sound of his blood pounding through his ears. Ever since he had been old enough to understand – perhaps before then – Scorpius had been told about the greatness of his blood line, and Draco had only shown what could be interpreted as enthusiasm in regard to parenting when teaching Scorpius about what was and was not acceptable behaviour for a young wizard of his standing. From the very beginning, his father had done nothing but put ideas into his head – ideas that didn't mirror the contours of reality. He had given Scorpius the pride that he had always been told preceded a fall, seemingly without a care for the consequences.

His line of thought ended abruptly as his mother gave a high-pitched scream. He looked up from the tablecloth and searched her for any sign of harm, and only noticed the shards of broken crystal when his father flicked his wand, causing them to fly back together and repair. It seemed that Scorpius had lost control of his magic. Draco looked less than impressed.

"Sorry." Scorpius' guilt solidified in the pit of his stomach as he realised that he could have cut his mother of his father due to sheer carelessness.

"Are you alright? Scorp-" His mother fell silent when Draco interrupted her.

"Sorry? Scorpius, you're supposed to be learning about using and controlling magic at school. What, pray tell, have you been doing with your time since September?" Draco regarded his son coolly, and the letter that he had sent in order to rebuke him for defending their family's honour – one of the two letters his father had sent him since he had gone to Hogwarts – rose to the forefront of Scorpius' thoughts.

Furious, he stood, throwing his napkin to the ground. His mother looked pleadingly between him and his father; however Scorpius was too angry to take her into consideration as he ordinarily would.

"I know that I'm a disappointment to you, but that's nothing compared to how big of a disappointment you are to me. You told me that our family was special, and I never questioned it. I worried so much about being good enough for you! Well, it turns out that I shouldn't have wasted my time because we're nothing compared to the Potters and the Weasleys." By the time he had finished speaking, his eyes burned with angry tears. Scorpius kicked his chair out of the way and fled from the room, not wishing to witness his father's reaction now that his surge of anger-induced courage had deserted him.

He raced up the stairs and into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. It did not muffle the sound of his parents' raised voices. Scorpius kicked off his shoes and climbed into his four-poster, yanking the curtains shut despite knowing that they would not hide him from his parents, should they choose to look for him.

There was no telling how Draco was going to react. Scorpius never spoke disrespectfully to either of his parents – he was too fond of his mother and too much in awe of his rather to make a habit of behaving badly – and as a Malfoy, he had thought it beneath his dignity, and so he had no idea what to expect. In the worst possible scenario, he could easily take the floo network into Hogsmeade and walk back to the school. If anybody asked what the problem was, he could say that his father had urgent business at the Ministry and his mother was... As hard as Scorpius tried, he couldn't think of a believable reason that his mother couldn't care for him; Astoria would move mountains for him, and Scorpius knew it.

At the thought of his mother's unwavering affection, Scorpius pulled his duvet over himself as though it could hide him from his own self-loathing. How could he have destroyed all of her hard work to continue the pretence that they were the perfect family and spoiled her dream Christmas? Although his father loved his mother deeply, it was impossible to imagine him having started to make her a greater priority than his job with the Ministry simply because Scorpius wasn't around to keep her company every day. It pained Scorpius to think of his mother, who loved to do things for and with other people, as being lonely. Certainly, she had friends aplenty, but it wasn't as though they all got together more than once or twice a week.

And it was impossible that his father, who held grudges with more intensity than Scorpius had believed possible, would forget the way in which Scorpius had shouted at him. There was nothing forgiving about Draco Malfoy, especially not if his dignity had been compromised. By venting his anger, Scorpius had destroyed any hope of growing into someone of whom his father could be proud. What made him feel worse was that no matter how dreadful his father could make him feel, Scorpius would still want to please him.

He was also embarrassed about performing accidental magic. Ever since he had started displaying signs of possessing magical abilities, his parents had taught him how to control and channel his magic. The wards that his father's suspicion had driven him to erect around the property kept the Ministry from being able to use the Trace to tell whether or not he or his parents were performing magic, and so it was that his outburst would pass by unnoticed. Unless his father reported him and had Scorpius sent to the crazy ward at St. Mungo's.

Draco Malfoy's pride wouldn't allow him to disown his own son publically, or so Scorpius thought until he recalled the furious scribbles in the book of wizarding genealogy. Draco had disowned his own father, severing ties because he thought it expedient. What if it acknowledging Scorpius as his son and heir was no longer what Draco considered to be the prudent course of action? What was the difference between casting off a father and a son?

Scorpius clenched his duvet between his hands, terrified that his own name would never be added to future editions of the book – it was worse than being scored out, because it would be as though he had never existed in the first place. He was too hot underneath the feather-stuffed quilt, but he couldn't bring himself to move because he felt as though nowhere was safer than his bed. He tensed as his door swung open softly.

"Scorpius?" It was his mother, and even though his duvet was in the way, he could tell that her voice was quieter than normal. "Scorpius, is something the matter?"

It was so tempting to tell her everything, but Scorpius felt that he had already done enough to spoil her holiday. He didn't move in the hope that she would think he was asleep. Apparently Astoria wasn't fooled, because he heard her cross the room and felt the mattress shift as she climbed onto his bed.

"I'm not angry with you, and your father... well, he's not really cross either." Her words weren't what Scorpius could describe as convincing. A sudden thought occurred to him.

"Why did you never tell me, mum?" He clung to the covers as Astoria attempted to pull them aside, holding on even after she had given up: he wasn't ready to see her face. "We always tell each other... things."

Conscious of the lump building in his throat, Scorpius fell silent. His mother was stroking his shoulder through the duvet.

"Why didn't I tell you what?"

"That we were nothing." He moved over so as to stop her from patting him – the rhythmic gesture was deeply irritating. Scorpius didn't want his mother to soothe his temper.

"That what he told me wasn't true; we're not great, we're not powerful – we're nothing." Scorpius inhaled a shaky breath and squeezed his eyes shut. He was glad that he couldn't see the expression of shock that was sure to be gracing his mother's delicate features.

"We are most certainly not _nothing_, Scorpius Malfoy, and if you say such a thing then you're letting James Potter win." There was a rare edge of anger to be heard in Astoria's voice. It was so unexpected that Scorpius forgot to resist as she tugged away the sheets that were covering him. "Your father was raised by two of the finest members of the wizarding community – everyone flocked around the Malfoys."

"What?" Forgetting that he was supposed to keep his back turned towards his mother, Scorpius sat upright and brushed his fringe from his eyes. He didn't know if she was simply humouring his father or is she believed the words coming out of her mouth. "But... everyone hates us."

"Times change, dearest, and we must move with them. However, that doesn't change the fact that you come from one of the proudest and most notable families in wizarding history." In the darkness of his room, it was impossible to see enough of his mother's expression to determine what she was thinking, although Scorpius could see that her mouth was set in a firm, determined line.

"Why? Is it because we're purebloods?" Scorpius watched with satisfaction as his mother jerked; it was as though she had been hit by a stinging hex.

"Don't use that phrase – not here, and especially not where others can hear you." Devoid of warmth, Astoria's voice cut through the blanket of darkness and forced Scorpius to pay attention to her.

"Why not? Dad believes in blood purity – that's what he wanted to know about my friends. What's the difference between coming from a questionable background and being a mudblood?" Scorpius lowered his voice until he had matched her own dangerous whisper, determined to convey the depth of his ire. "You know what? I don't care what he thinks anymore, because he never loved me like you did -"

"That's unfair on your father, Scorpius -"

"It's true! You always looked after me, mum, but you let me down and I'm never going to forgive you for it. Don't you get it? All that happens at school is this; James Potter tells me and everyone else who cares to listen about what an awful person I am because my parents did sod all to help his Dad win the war." He pulled the covers back around himself once more, a protective cocoon.

"Scorpius..." His mother's voice cracked. He heard her sniffle, and in that moment Scorpius Malfoy despised her for her weakness. She hadn't had to live through the teasing and taunting that he did – she didn't know how it felt to be unable to sleep because foul words about her own family were churning through her mind.

"Go _away_." Scorpius pulled the duvet over his head to block out the noise of her crying.

"I'm so sorry." Astoria placed a hand on his back and began to pat him again, just like he was a baby. The idea that his mother wanted to pacify him by cooing over him made Scorpius feel like hitting something.

"I don't care if you're sorry or not, because I hate James Potter, his dad, my Dad and everything in this stupid house, but not nearly as much as I hate _you_." As soon as the words had left his mouth, Scorpius knew that he had gone too far.

He winced as his mother began to sob silently – he could feel her shaking – but he didn't want to apologise. He was too afraid of her sadness and of the possibility that he couldn't forgive her. He listened as Astoria climbed to her feet and walked from the room. His guilt doubled as he heard her crying. Knowing that he couldn't simply lie in bed and let his mother be miserable, Scorpius left his room, squinting at the brightness of the corridor. He had expected to see his mother crumpled on the floor, wiping away her tears, but she was nowhere to be seen. Before Scorpius could puzzle out the dilemma of whether return to bed or to go and find her, which was unappealing because his father could be anywhere in the house, he heard a crash from downstairs. Scorpius raced down the stairs, two at a time.

"My son hates me, and it's completely your fault." Astoria's voice echoed around the house. "I let you tell him about how great he had to be to live up to your family name."

Scorpius couldn't hear whether or not his father replied over the sound of another ornament shattering as it hit the wall of the atrium. Peering over the banister, he watched as his mother flicked her wand, causing a priceless white vase to accelerate towards his father.

"Expelliarmus!" Deftly, Draco disarmed his wife whilst dodging the projectile. Her wand landed on the floor with a clatter, but Astoria didn't seem to notice. Scorpius looked on with a curious mixture of horror and amazement as she launched herself at his father, kicking and hitting, biting and scratching everywhere she could reach. "Astoria, calm yourself! Stop it! The boy is simply -"

"He's tired of being ridiculed for your mistakes Draco." The fight seemed to fade from Astoria as she sagged, clinging to Draco's robes to keep herself upright. "How are you going to fix this? I always tried to love Scorpius enough for both of us. Well, I'm all out of suggestions now Draco and unless you do something about it, he's going to resent us for the rest of his life."

"Get off me!" Draco and Astoria struggled for a few moments, he trying to prise her fingers from his robes, and she attempting to prevent him from escaping her grasp.

Finally, Astoria staggered backwards as Draco pushed her from him, grabbing on to the mantel piece in order to stop herself from falling. Scorpius reached for his wand, ready to curse his father where he stood, only to find that it wasn't in his pocket. Helpless, he watched as Draco opened the front door and disappeared into the dark winter night. A cold wind swept through the house as the door slammed shut in his wake.

Once the shock had worn off, Scorpius hurried to his mother's side and helped her to her feet.

"I don't hate you; not really." A pleading not entered his voice, and Astoria looked at her son with glassy eyes. "I love you more than anyone in the world."

Her dazed expression didn't change. In a way, seeing Astoria's face, ordinarily so expressive, looking blank was worse than watching her cry or listening to her screaming at his father.

"We've let you down, Scorpius." Astoria closed her eyes, and for the thirst time Scorpius noticed the fine lines that were spreading beside them.

"No, you haven't. You always come and watch me when I play quidditch, and you always tell me that you're proud of me." Squeezing her hand, Scorpius waited for a response. None came. "Mum?"

"I'm going... I'm going to bed, Scorpius." Astoria kissed the top of his head and peeled herself away from her son, leaning down to recover her hand. "Sleep well."

"You too." Scorpius watched her retreating back, trying not to notice how small that her retreating back seemed. "Goodnight."

Astoria climbed the stairs slowly and disappeared around the corner, heading to the master bedroom. As he watched her go, Scorpius felt surprisingly lonely. He wanted to talk to someone, although it wouldn't be fair to go after his mother – it was out of the question. Then he recalled Narcissa Malfoy. Her aloof smile and equivocal speech didn't exactly inspire Scorpius with confidence, but a conversation with her portrait was better than sitting in his room and seething. Anyway, he had been waiting patiently for an opportunity to speak with her, and another such occasion wouldn't necessarily take place before his return to Hogwarts. There was also something that his mother had said which, at the time, Scorpius had been too cross to pay any real attention to:

"_Your father was raised by two of the finest members of the wizarding community – everyone flocked around the Malfoys."_

Not one, but two people – Narcissa, and presumably her husband too, had been revered. Without giving it any more thought, Scorpius rushed to his father's office. He didn't know how much time he had, but he did know what it was that he wanted to ask about.

Scorpius bolted up the stairs, for once guilt free, because he couldn't care less that his father thought that running was inappropriate. He unlocked the office and stepped into the room without fear, for he was too excited to even consider the consequences of being found by either one of his parents. He lit the room with his wand before yanking open the curtains.

"Narcissa! Narcissa!" Scorpius waved at her most vigorously in case the volume of his words alone was not enough to attract her attention. She looked down at him, highly affronted.

"Excuse me? Is that any way to speak to a witch of good standing?" Narcissa's icy glare caused Scorpius to falter.

"No. I'm sorry." He lowered his eyes and folded his hands behind his back, attempting to appear the picture of contrition. His mother could never stay angry at Scorpius for long when he adopted this pose. However, it appeared that his grandmother was made of much sterner stuff.

"Hmm." Her expression didn't soften. "I had expected you to seek me out much sooner than this, after everything that your father's told me. I'm beginning to suspect that your curiosity was merely a figment of his imagination, born of paternal sentiment."

"Well I can't understand why he talks to you in the first place; you're insufferable!" Scorpius shook his head, incredulous. He certainly wouldn't put up with this from his mother, but then again Astoria was too nice to be quite as scathing.

"Then why are you talking to me?" Narcissa stared at him imperiously, and although her eyes were painted they were lifelike enough to make his stomach turn.

"I'm here because I want to know more about you." Scorpius didn't allow the depth of his longing to enter his voice, determined to gain the upper hand. "Who are you?"

"Narcissa Malfoy, as you well know."

"But why are you still in the genealogy book if Dad's father, your husband, isn't? Why would he call his own father a traitor?" Scorpius had to concentrate from asking her what was to stop Draco from adding him to the list – after all, Narcissa was his mother and presumably understood her son better than he did.

Narcissa sighed, closing her eyes in what could only be described as irritation.

"What right have you, a presumptuous little boy, to know why he fell from grace?" There was a terrible sadness to her eyes, like the way in which his mother had looked defeated after their argument. It made Scorpius uncomfortable to think of the way she had hung from his father's robes, desperate. What was worse was the way that Draco had left her – both of them – behind. Scorpius knew that it was his fault.

"I'm a Malfoy."

"Not a good enough answer, Scorpius." Her lips pursed. "You're very like your father."

"Don't say that about me!" The plea in his voice shocked him as much as it did Narcissa.

"Why not?"

"Because he's a liar, and a hypocrite, and he expects more from me than he deserves. He isn't kind enough to my mother and because of him, people despise me." Scorpius kicked the corner of Draco's desk angrily, as though his father would by pained as a result of his possession being abused. "He said that I'd have so much just because I was a Malfoy if I did as he said."

"...So like my son." Narcissa's voice was strained, and the corner of her mouth trembled. Her hands were grasping the table beside her for support, their knuckles white.

"Are you – are you alright?" He was well aware that Narcissa was dead and that there was little he could do for her in portrait form, however Scorpius was concerned that he had managed to wound yet another member of his family by venting his anger. Maybe it wasn't fair for him to have let Narcissa know how her only child had turned out – Scorpius could just imagine his mother's hurt if anyone told her that he was all of those dreadful things.

"I – yes, I'm fine." She nodded slowly as though to convince herself of the words. "Would you still like to know about Draco's father?"

Although Scorpius suspected it was a ploy of Narcissa's designed to distract him from her vulnerability, he felt no qualms about accepting her offer. He had been offended by the comparison she had drawn, however well intended.

"Yes please."

"Very well. Should I choose to withhold information from you, Scorpius, you will respect my decision. Understood?" Narcissa waited for him to nod. "Your father was raised in a world that I'd imagine is very different to the place that you're used to. You know of the Dark Lord, don't you?"

"Some things, yes." He spoke calmly, although he felt sick at the thought. He'd read about what the Dark Lord had done, and why.

"Well, when your father was a boy, there was peace. It ended when the Dark Lord returned, bringing the contrasting views on the purity of blood into direct conflict. Both my husband and I came from respectable pure blood families, and we cared so much that the old ways would continue – it seemed so important, at the time. Not only was the Dark Lord defeated, but all those known to share the desire for magic to remain the property of purebloods were castigated, no matter how tenuous their link to the ideology." Narcissa frowned, as though disapproving. "The structure of the magical community was certainly changed, although whether it became as level as the Potterites claim..."

She trailed off, making her own opinion clear. Scorpius was openly staring. Whenever his parents discussed the ramifications of the war, the conversation ended in shushing and an uncomfortable silence filled with ideas he had not understood – at least, not until Narcissa had explained the matter. Scorpius wondered if his father had felt the same bitter disappointment that he did. He liked the idea of Draco being forced to struggle with his own thoughts, unable to reach an obvious conclusion.

"I see. Thank you." Scorpius reached out and brushed her gilded frame in an awkward attempt to convey his sudden rush of affection for Narcissa. He wondered, rather sadly, if the dynamic between them would have been the same if they had met before her death.

"You're welcome." Narcissa smiled down at Scorpius, eyes dancing. "However, I get the impression that you wish to know more."

"Yes, more about you, and... your husband, if you wouldn't mind telling me."

"I was a socialite, for a time. I found great pleasure in throwing dinner parties, years before the war. Afterwards, my health began to fail." Narcissa shrugged away the commiserations that Scorpius had planned on offering. "And Lucius... Lucius was ambitious. He shared my hunger for more, and my belief that there was always better to be had. For many years, he was a senior advisor at the Ministry of Magic."

"What happened to him after the war?" Scorpius couldn't hide his curiosity. The traitor, his grandfather, had been called Lucius Malfoy. "What did he do wrong?"

"That... that I will not tell you." It didn't seem as though Narcissa was enjoying being enigmatic, this time, and so Scorpius remained at ease.

"Okay. Would you mind telling me how he died, in that case? And when. I – I want to write it in the book." Scorpius didn't like the idea of Lucius' life and death passing unmarked. They had never met, but he wanted to do something to compensate for his own father's rejection of him.

"Lucius isn't dead."

Scorpius felt as though the ground had been pulled from beneath him. He gasped.

"What?"

"My husband is still very much alive." There was a small, secret smile playing around Narcissa's mouth which suggested that she still felt a great deal for Lucius, despite her demise.

"Wh- where is he?" Squeezing the frame, Scorpius willed her to understand how important it was for him to know the truth. "I want to see him."

"Malfoy Manor." Her smile faded as Scorpius gaped. "Hasn't my son told you about it? It's to be your inheritance."

"No... sorry." Scorpius didn't like to add that his father hadn't a brilliant track record with the truth; especially not after Narcissa had proven to be so helpful. "How do I get there?"

"Go and fetch your wand." There was no elaboration. Apparently, Narcissa was to be obeyed.

"Will you – will you wait for me, please?" Nervous, Scorpius bit his lip. He liked the idea of meeting his grandfather – he liked it very much – but he had no idea what to expect.

"Where else do you expect me to go?" Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Hurry."

Not waiting to be told again, Scorpius rushed to his room and lifted his wand from the nightstand. He was just about to leave again when the lock of his trunk caught the light, bringing it to his attention. Malfoy Manor, wherever it was, would be his house one day. Before his nerve could desert him, Scorpius flicked his wand and sent some clothes, his school things, some money and his broom in case he needed to travel.

"Locomotor trunk!" Aiming his wand carefully, Scorpius managed to navigate the trunk with relative ease, although he was forced to adopt a more sedate pace. As he passed by the staircase leading to his parents' bedroom, Scorpius felt a twinge of guilt. "Sorry mum."

When he returned to the office, Narcissa was waiting as promised.

"I had planned on asking what the cause for delay was, but it's clear enough now." She didn't look impressed. "I don't suppose I can talk you out of this? Your parents will worry."

"Mum... she'll understand." Scorpius had to hope that he was right, because if his father didn't have to stay and suffocate on all of the lies that had amassed in their family, Scorpius didn't see why he should. He was sick of Draco's double standards. "Dad doesn't care."

"Hmm."

There was no time for Narcissa's scepticism to bother him.

"So how am I supposed to get there? I can fly if I have to." The idea of getting onto his broom and soaring into the sky was immensely appealing. His mother had always told him that he could have the stars and the moon, and it would make one of his parents honest.

"Climb in, and then you'll see. Perhaps you should give me your trunk first." Producing a wand from inside her sleeve, Narcissa pointed it towards the trunk. "Alright, pass it to me."

Confused, Scorpius did as he was told. He watched in amazement as the trunk passed into the portrait. Never, not even at Hogwarts had he seen magic to equal the sight before him. Scorpius watched as Narcissa lowered it slowly to the floor.

"Narcissa?" Once he had her attention, Scorpius grew uncomfortable. "I'm glad that I met you, and not just because of what you've told me."

"I looked forward to meeting you ever since I first knew of you." She looked at Scorpius with a combination of fondness and wistfulness. "Pass through the bookcase."

Scorpius looked behind her properly for the first time, noticing that beside the large window was indeed a bookshelf. It looked as though it was pressed against a wall that was adjacent to the outside of the house, which made the cliché of a bookcase serving as the entrance to a secret passage seem highly unlikely.

He pocketed his wand before hoisting himself into the portrait, eyes closed tight. For a moment, Scorpius could have sworn that he felt a kiss being pressed onto his forehead, just like his mother did. Only, there was a smell of lilies, and his mother preferred jasmine scented perfume. Before he had time to ponder the mystery in great detail, Scorpius opened his eyes to find himself in a spacious library.

He was alone. Narcissa was nowhere to be seen.

Disconcerted by the experience, he walked quickly towards the bookcase she had shown him and at his touch it swivelled, sending him sprawling. When Scorpius lifted himself to rest on his knees, he realised that the room was pitch black.

"Lumos." Sure enough, Scorpius saw that he was in the same library as before, only the furniture was covered in white sheets.

He didn't like it. Not one bit. Scooting backwards, Scorpius pressed against the bookcase, wanting to return to his home regardless of what his parents would say. It didn't move. In order to try and make sure it wasn't stuck, Scorpius put his wand onto the floor and pushed with both hands. Nothing happened.

Scorpius stepped backwards, tripping over a dust sheet. The material was so cold that it felt damp. Terrified, he pushed the cover away, kicking furiously as it became tangled around his feet. The table it had been covering overbalanced as his foot connected with its leg, causing it to fall. The sound was terribly loud in the otherwise silent library. It echoed, and Scorpius knew that anyone else in the room, or indeed the house would hear it.

In the commotion, he forgot all about the need for light and the lumos spell extinguished. The room was pitch black and unfamiliar, and Scorpius was terrified. Anyone could have broken into the house without Narcissa being any the wiser. What if his father didn't know about the secret passage? What if his parents didn't mind that he was missing?

"Narcissa!" His breathing sped up. Scorpius wanted to go home. "Mum!"

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review. **


	3. Chapter 3

**OoOoO**

"_And when we're in the dark,_

_It echoes in your heart,_

_And when you're far away,_

_It beckons me to stay."_

**-Marina and the Diamonds, 'The Family Jewels'**

**OoOoO**

Realising his mistake, Scorpius fell silent: he didn't want to be discovered. In fact, the idea sent fear running through his veins like ice. He patted the floor with his hands, searching for his fallen wand. Scorpius had just developed the confidence to move a little, increasing the area of his search, when he heard a sound that made his heart race: a door creaked open, the sound carrying through the otherwise silent room. Silently, Scorpius crawled backwards, wedging himself between a wall and a book shelf. He wrapped his arms around his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible.

"Who's there?" A rasping voice called out searchingly into the darkness, setting Scorpius on edge. "Homenum revelio."

Scorpius experienced a curious sensation, as though not only his hair had been ruffled by some unknown force passing overhead, but his insides too. It wasn't painful, merely disquieting. He realised, as the approaching footsteps grew progressively louder, that his cover had been blown. The unfamiliar presence muttered a few choice words, and the room was lit. The library was not significantly different from the way it had been in Narcissa's portrait – the rows of shelves were, from what Scorpius could see, aligned in the same position. The footsteps drew closer still, punctuated by the sound of a walking aid. There was no distant yet affectionate grandfather waiting here for him, only some unknown, potentially hostile presence.

Looking upwards as though a solution would present itself on the faded fresco covering the ceiling, Scorpius held his breath and tried desperately not to sneeze as dust filled his nose. It was everywhere; covering the white sheets; dangling from the chandeliers. Tears filled his eyes. If he was hurt or killed, then one of the last things that he would ever have told his mother would have been that he hated her. Fear leaden in the pit of his stomach, Scorpius watched the mouth made by the bookcases on either side of him as though hypnotised. Belatedly, he noticed his wand on the floor, lying on the other side of the fallen table.

An unnaturally pale figure rounded the corner, wand aloft in one hand, a cane in the other, and for a split second Scorpius thought that a ghost was before him. Only, the black robes that he was wearing did not fit in with the standard luminous silver of any of the ghosts that Scorpius had seen at Hogwarts. Launching himself forwards before his presence could be fully registered, Scorpius scooped up his wand and aimed it at the gaunt figure. Adrenaline rushed through his veins.

"Stupefy!" To his immense frustration, red sparks sputtered from his wand in a limp arc. Before he had time to lament the failure, the wizard before him blocked the dud spell with such force that Scorpius was sent staggering backwards.

"Expelliarmus!" Stiffly, he reached out and the wand fell into his outstretched hand. For a moment, Scorpius considered tackling him in the muggle style and reclaiming his wand, but the wizard before him pocketed it and advanced. "Who are you?"

"Don't come any closer to me." Scorpius retreated until his back came into contact with the wall, eyes pleading.

"Answer me, boy!" The wizard's voice was hoarse due to disuse and cracked as he raised it. "What's your name? Why are you here?"

"S-Scorpius. I'm Scorpius, and I came because... Narcissa invited me." He watched with horror as what little colour there had been in the old wizard's face drained, leaving him waxen in pallor.

"You have no right to speak of – insolent child! Who sent you here?" Cold fury ignited behind his grey eyes, the only part of the wizard that looked truly alive.

"Nar- nobody!" He felt that it would be best to refrain from mentioning Narcissa Malfoy again as it had clearly agitated the wizard, who was already terrifying enough. "Please don't hurt me."

"Then tell me why it is that you're here? Come to pry, have you? Did they think I wouldn't notice that a mere child entered my home – is that it? Yes, you're far more subtle combing through my library than a team of hot-headed aurors..." Stepping closer, the wizard grasped Scorpius' collar and pointed his wand directly at his throat.

"I swear on my honour as a Malfoy, I didn't mean to snoop. You can let me go; I don't want to do you any harm." Scorpius spoke quickly, the words running into one another in their hurry to leave his mouth, and he was startled when the wizard complied and released him. "This house is supposed to belong to my family, but if you send me home then I'm sure that my father can reach some sort of agreement with you."

"What did you say?" The cane fell to the ground with a clatter, and the wizard swayed dangerously. Alarmed, Scorpius didn't know whether to try and support him or make a break for it. "Make that oath again, boy."

"I... swear, sir, upon my honour as a Malfoy." It seemed that the wizard recognised the name. Scorpius continued, keen to press his advantage. "My name is Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. My parents are Draco and Astoria – they'll give you whatever you want if you'll let me go home now. Perhaps they'll even let you stay here, because we don't need this house... not really."

The wizard didn't respond, save for making a strangled sound in his throat. He started at Scorpius with a fierce intensity as though taking in every detail. Scorpius wondered if what he had spoken was the truth; he couldn't picture his father being eager to swap even a ramshackle old manor house for his safety.

"Are you alright, sir?" Tentatively, Scorpius took a step forward; the old man didn't look well.

"Draco Malfoy has a son..." After the words had been spoken, it seemed that the wizard was unable to look him in the eyes because he turned and leant against the bookcase, his long silver hair covering his face. Puzzled, Scorpius continued.

"Yes, that's me. My gr- someone was supposed to live here and I had come to visit him, but I don't think he's here anymore. Perhaps my father will know where he is. Either way, I ought to leave you be." Scorpius managed a thin smile, recalling what his mother had taught him about trying to charm people rather than make enemies. A thought passed through his mind, twice as tempting for its impracticality. "I think that Na- my grandmother used to live here, sir. Would it be alright if I looked for a few of her things before I left?"

When there was no response, Scorpius bent down and retrieved the cane, handing it back to its owner. The wizard made no move to take it.

"Er... here you go, sir." Biting his lip nervously, Scorpius wondered if their fledgling peace would survive if he mentioned Narcissa by name. "Would that be alright?"

"Your father spoke to you of her?" The man shook his head almost aggressively, and the way he continued to mutter to himself made Scorpius question his mental stability. "Of course he did. Why wouldn't the boy? They were always close, and she was... she was his mother, after all. There's no reason why he wouldn't have."

"Sir? Do you know my father?" Hesitantly, Scorpius placed a hand on the worn sleeve of what had certainly been an expensively tailored robe. He was ashamed by how desperately he wanted the rather demented looking stranger to tell him that his father was powerful and good. He jerked away as though burned when the bedraggled old wizard began to laugh. It was a humourless, grating sound that filled his ears.

"Do I know your father, boy?" The man turned his attention to Scorpius, eyes alert once more. "Once, perhaps I did, although not for many years since then. You will know more of him than I."

"I see." Scorpius coughed. "What was he like, when you knew him?"

The wizard raised an eyebrow, considering the question.

"I shall answer all of your questions and show you Narcissa's belongings if you will take a late supper with me." The wizard watched him carefully, an unreadable expression on his face. It was a strange request however it was too good an offer for Scorpius to refuse.

"Alright, it's a deal." Scorpius held out his hand like he had often seen his father do. If he was surprised by such a formal gesture being made by a child, the wizard did not show it, instead pressing his papery hand against Scorpius'.

"Come with me." The wizard turned and began to make his way between the shelves, back towards the door. After a moment's hesitation, Scorpius called out after him as he hurried to catch up.

"Excuse me sir, but... what's your name?" Scorpius watched with interest as the old wizard came to a standstill and turned to face him. He reached into his pocket and returned Scorpius' wand before continuing. "Where are we going?"

"Upstairs." The terse answer did not include the level of detail that Scorpius had been hoping for. Nevertheless, he stepped into a dark corridor and squinted as the old wizard flicked his wand, causing the room to be bathed in a soft golden light.

The hall would have been beautiful, astonishingly so, if it had not been allowed to sink into decay. As Scorpius climbed the marble stairs, he took in the once rich carpet and the dust coated portraits lining the wall before him. Although it too was constructed of marble, and so would not have rotted, Scorpius refrained from touching the banister – it was thick with dust.

"Wow." Although he had only whispered, the sound carried and echoed. Scorpius had thought that his own home was richly furnished, but this was opulence like he had never seen before; everything looked as though it was worth a small fortune. The wizard's lip quirked – despite his father's schooling, Scorpius couldn't keep the look of awe from his face. He bit his lip. Perhaps he had been overly hasty in bargaining away the property. If Lucius Malfoy was gone and his father had no plans to stake his claim on it, Scorpius thought that he would.

"You find it pleasing?" Amusement softened the lines of age.

"Yes, it's amazing. Can I see more, please?" Scorpius was hard pressed to stop himself from exploring behind the several doors that he could see from his new vantage point at the top of the stairway. The house would be like a luxurious labyrinth.

"Another time, perhaps – the hour is already late. We will take tea together and discuss it." They continued along the corridor together, Scorpius trying not to stare too openly at the portraits of the people who could only be his ancestors. "In here."

Scorpius stepped through the door that the old wizard had opened for him and was thankful to see that the room was exempt from the overall decline of the other parts of the house that he had seen. There was a fire burning in the hearth, around which were positioned a wingback armchair and a pair of sofas. The wizard eased himself into the armchair and gestured for Scorpius to take a seat.

"Thank you." Unsure of the stranger's intent, Scorpius sat and looked around for any sign of floo powder. If the wizard had intended to harm him, he would have done so by now and certainly wouldn't have returned his wand. Still, it was an odd situation and more than a little tense.

"Tell me a little about yourself, Scorpius." When no response was forthcoming, the old wizard continued speaking. "Humour an old man, my child."

"I'm a first year student at Hogwarts – Slytherin house, of course." A note of pride entered his voice, and he saw the stranger nod his approval.

"So you're eleven, then?" The prompt was delivered with a certain wistfulness that made Scorpius curious.

"Yes. And my favourite class is probably Potions." He coughed politely, uncertain what else there was to say.

"And what else do you like?"

"Flying, I suppose. I saw the Quidditch World Cup last year. Do you like going to matches?" Scorpius knew by the wizard's gentle smirk that his attempt to gain information had been less than subtle.

"I did, once. It has been many years since I last saw the game played. Does your father take you with him?"

"He did..." Scorpius frowned, wondering what, if anything could be done to repair their relationship. "I also like to read. It can get pretty loud at Hogwarts, even in the common room, and the library can be a good place to go."

"Well, your father must be proud of you." The wizard reached over to the small table beside him and lifted a tumbler of firewhisky, drinking with relish. Scorpius averted his gaze, unwilling to let a complete stranger know that he was ashamed of his father and that his father was equally ashamed of him. Thankfully, the wizard seemed to recall his offer of supper. "Forgive me, but you are altogether too young to join me in a glass of firewhisky. What is it that you normally drink?"

"Could I have a mug of cocoa please?" Shifting in the seat, Scorpius wished that he hadn't requested such a childish beverage. But he missed his mother, and since he couldn't go home, it was the closest he could get to having her with him. A few moments later, the drink and a plate of biscuits appeared before him on the table. "How did you get to know Narcissa Malfoy?"

"Few of my generation did not. She was an exceptional beauty and, naturally, famous throughout Hogwarts for it." His voice was surprisingly melodious now that he had taken a drink, and the wizard's steely grey gaze softened for a few moments, but Scorpius didn't notice. He hadn't realised he was hungry until he had started to eat.

"I see." Scorpius considered his next question carefully. "How was it that she died?" The wizard's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "That is, if you don't mind telling me."

"You... you have a right to know. Narcissa was descended from one of the greatest lines known to the wizarding world; the Blacks, and she married into one just as grand. She lived a comfortable life for several years until the return of the Dark Lord – you know of whom it is that I speak, yes?" He waited for Scorpius to nod. "Well, Narcissa herself was not a Death Eater, although her husband was. And so was their -"

The wizard paused, frowning as though silently debating with himself.

"Yes?"

"And so, their lives were not as comfortable as before. In fact, it was as though their fortune was to be reversed completely. He fell from the Dark Lord's good graces, and so did she. They lived in terror, trying to protect themselves and their son from both sides of the conflict. All three narrowly escaped the war, although there was no longer a place for them or their beliefs within Harry Potter's world, Lucius and Narcissa especially. They suffered the loss of their influence and respect, and so retired here in order to escape the public eye and allow their son to be free of the past they represented. You might say that Narcissa was crushed by fortune's wheel – she lost her will to continue when it became clear that she would never be restored to her former glory, and her health failed."

A thoughtful silence descended, and the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire. Scorpius tried to picture the Narcissa of the portrait in fear of her life, suffering as the wizard had outlined. He too knew ambition, and could not imagine a world in which his goals would permanently be out of reach – for her to have died pining for greatness struck Scorpius as being tragic. He blinked, refusing to cry.

"That's terrible." Sipping on his cocoa, Scorpius attempted to swallow past the lump in his throat. "What about Lucius? When did he leave? Where did he go?"

"I'm afraid that I don't know." The wizard closed his eyes, the firelight casting shadows across his face. Although it was thin and lined by age, Scorpius noticed a striking resemblance to his father; to the portraits lining the hall; to the Malfoys. His empty mug fell, landing heavily on the carpet, as his fingers went limp.

"I think that you do know, don't you Lucius?" He watched as the wizard's eyes snapped open, the reflexive response confirming his suspicion. Neither of them moved for several seconds.

"I'll admit it; I'm Lucius Malfoy." He bowed his head, sighing. "It would be best if you did not speak of this meeting to your father, although you are of course free to do as you see fit. I... I will create a portkey for you."

"Wait, what?" Scorpius stared at the wizard – Lucius, his grandfather – with his jaw slack in disbelief. Why was he trying to get rid of him?

"It was truly an honour to meet you, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, however unexpected. You carry the name well." His expression was stoic, although there was an underlying emotion to his voice that made Scorpius realise that the entire experience was as much as a shock, if not more, for Lucius than it was for him.

"Thank you, but... I'm not going home." With the reminder of what it was that he had been so determined to escape, Scorpius tilted his chin upwards defiantly. "I can't."

"Your father's anger is reserved for me alone, boy. Don't worry." Lucius gave a tight smile, which turned into a look of bewilderment. "Where did you tell him that you were going? I'm Merlin himself if he consented to this visit."

"You told me that I could ask questions, not that I'd have to answer them." Folding his arms defensively at the wizard's shocked expression, Scorpius continued. "Why did he never tell me about you?"

"I explained it to you – your father has severed ties with his pas-"

"Yeah, but nobody would have to have known, would they? He could have brought me to see you without telling anyone." Frustrated, Scorpius stood and waved his arms. "Why didn't he?"

"You wish to hear the truth?" Lucius too stood, turning and sitting his empty glass on the mantle. He summoned the decanter, and poured the amber liquid as he spoke. "Because I was a Death Eater."

"And? You're my grandfather." Scorpius hated that he couldn't keep the whine from his voice. "Maybe I would have liked to know you."

Incredulous, Lucius turned to face him. "Did you not hear me? _I was a Death Eater_. I followed the Dark Lord. Surely you must have some sort of grasp of what that meant."

Scorpius felt his retort die on his lips. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about the atrocities that had been the way of the Death Eaters and their leader: Murder. Torture. Those were the words that had stared up at him, no different from the others, from the pages of his textbook. He tried to think of the students he sat with in lessons, shared a school with, being murdered, but he couldn't wrap his head around the idea. And yet, Lucius Malfoy would certainly have killed muggle-borns and muggles alike. _Killed them_. Scorpius felt ill. He couldn't reconcile the harsh, unimaginable concept with the softly spoken old man before him.

It was too horrible. He felt ill. He couldn't bring himself to look up.

"It isn't as simple as you'd thought, is it? Don't judge your father too harshly, Scorpius."

"But... but he was a Death Eater too." Scorpius felt himself shaking. It was one thing for his father to be a hypocrite and a liar, but a cold blooded killer? That was too much for him to stomach. It couldn't be true. "They told me at school."

"Leave this house despising me if you will, but take this one thing to heart: your father never killed anyone. He may have supported the ideology – he may still do, in a way – but what he saw of the cruelty sickened your father. Draco was little more than a boy at the time, and he paid for my mistakes."

"Do you promise?" Wary, Scorpius prepared himself for disappointment.

"On my honour as a Malfoy and as a wizard, I do so swear." As he echoed Scorpius' earlier words, there wasn't a hint of irony in his voice. "I misled you about my identity for selfish reasons. I wasn't aware that Draco had a son, and I wanted to make the most of my only opportunity to learn about you. I wanted to know where the family line has gone, and I wanted to have you speak to me without your knowledge of my past colouring your opinion of me."

"That's fair, I suppose." Still Scorpius could not bring himself to look upwards. "Why is it that you're disgraced? I saw what my father did to the family tree in that book – the one that belonged to Brutus Malfoy."

"Ah, 'Nature's Nobility: a Wizarding Genealogy'. Most likely to distance himself from the role I played in the war and, although I cannot be sure, because of my failings as a father." His voice was devoid of self-pity, which Scorpius couldn't help find impressive. Perhaps this was where his father's flair for impassivity came from. "As you will have surmised, he detests me and I don't blame him; not really. I gave him a considerable portion of his inheritance and stayed away from him, giving Draco the best future that I could offer him at the time. That I couldn't play a part in your life is my fault, not his."

"Why did you do it?" Sensing Lucius' exasperation, Scorpius hurried on. "Not the inheritance... Why did you kill?"

"There isn't an answer that I can give you, Scorpius."

"Do you regret it more than losing all of the things you had before Harry Potter won the war?" There was an edge of accusation in his words that Scorpius made no effort to conceal. Knowing that the Malfoy family had once been great was not the consolation he had expected – it shamed him to know that James Potter had been right and his family were nothing but vile criminals and bigots.

"I don't know. If we had retained our position in the world, then Narcissa -" Lucius fell silent, overcome with emotion. "Of all the wrongs I committed, her death weighs the most heavily on my conscience."

"I thought you said that she was sick!" Horrified, Scorpius backed away. Lucius had spoken so tenderly of his wife, and yet what he was saying contradicted his tone entirely.

"She withered like a flower taken from the sunlight, and it was because of my greed that she was forced to exist in the shadows. I as good as cast the killing curse, even if Narcissa didn't die by my hand." He sounded tired and painfully sad, as though the guilt had consumed him. It probably had – if Lucius had been in the house for over a decade then little else would have occupied him.

For the first time since he had learned of Lucius' past, Scorpius looked at the man. He was sitting back in the chair, head his hands, shoulders bowed, his posture radiating defeat. Although Scorpius had never known his loss, he could still taste his earlier disappointment. Before he could rethink his decision, Scorpius crossed the room and knelt beside the armchair, placing a hand on the arm of Lucius Malfoy.

"It's not all your fault. I don't know for sure what happened, but she seems to and she doesn't think any less of you for it." Scorpius didn't flinch under the scrutiny of the older wizard. "If we can find a way to get to my father's portrait of her then I'm sure that Narcissa won't mind telling you herself."

"I own a number of portraits of Narcissa, only... I had them put into storage several years ago. What you suggest is – I shall consider it." Tentatively, he patted Scorpius' shoulder. "She would have adored you, I think."

Scorpius couldn't help but smile.

"Does that mean that I can stay? At least for tonight, I mean." Scorpius pressed on, ignoring the way that Lucius had raised an eyebrow. "I think that I'm going to be disowned too."

"Don't be ridiculous. Listen to me, Scorpius; you're an innocent child, and I doubt that you could have done anything within so short a life span to merit your father castigating you publicly." But Lucius' words were of no comfort.

"I did!" Indignant, Scorpius shifted so that his grandfather could no longer rest his hand on his shoulder.

"What?" Disbelief was etched onto Lucius' features.

"I confronted him about the things he's said about us being great and all of the other lies that he's told me. I was never good enough for him before, so I doubt he'll welcome me back with open arms after that." Scorpius tried and failed to keep his voice level, "Especially not if some of it was a little bit true at some point."

"That's, ah... We'll talk of it in the morning. I'll have a house elf transport the trunk you brought into your father's old bedroom. Continue right along the corridor and you'll find it." Lucius made no move to follow him, turning once more towards the firelight.

"So I can stay, then?" He stifled a yawn. Scorpius felt himself smiling hopefully when no negative response was forthcoming.

"Goodnight." The dismissal was muttered absently. Clearly Lucius' mind was occupied by other matters, which Scorpius couldn't argue with; he too had a lot to think about. There was nothing else to be said, and so he left the parlour and returned to the draughty corridor. Briefly, Scorpius considered exploring the manor house before going to sleep, but as he yawned once again, he realised that he was exhausted. By the time he had arrived in the designated bedroom, the house elves had managed to ensure that it was dust-free and clean. In some ways, the room was similar in style to his bedroom at home; it was dominated by a large four poster bed with green hangings, and its ornate furnishings were in keeping with the luxury of the remainder of the house. As promised, his trunk was at the foot of the bed.

Too tired even to search the room for mementos of his father's childhood, Scorpius put on his pyjamas and sank into the crisp sheets of the bed. His eyes closed almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, and so he was completely unaware of the door being slowly opened, or that for several minutes Lucius stood and watched him, a silent guardian.

**OoOoO**

Once again, they had eaten in the parlour, although it was an altogether more welcoming environment with the pale winter sunlight spilling through the windows, illuminating the thick blanket of snow covering the sprawling grounds that, after puzzling over their emptiness, Scorpius realised belonged to the property. The more he saw of the Malfoy Manor, the more it impressed him – it surpassed even his greatest dreams of wealth and status.

Throughout the meal, Lucius had been little more than mute, and it had taken Scorpius almost an entire English breakfast to realise that his grandfather was distracted – evidently, a lot was weighing on his mind. It seemed that the eldest Malfoy was more adept at concealing his true thoughts and feelings than even Draco, and Just thinking about his misplaced guilt over Narcissa's death made Scorpius feel sorrowful. He wanted desperately to ask whether or not Lucius had spoken to the portrait of his wife, however Scorpius knew that it wasn't his place, and he didn't want to pester the man about his wife's belongings either. Besides, there were plenty of other things to be curious about.

"Sir, I was wondering... after you've finished reading the newspaper, could you show me around the house?" As interesting as he found Transfigurations, the textbook was failing to hold his attention. Scorpius was eager to explore.

"No – we shall go now and discuss your ancestors." Lucius folded his paper and stood, lifting his cane from its place beside his armchair. "It's high time that you learned more of your heritage, boy."

"Thank you." Discarded, the book fell to the floor as Scorpius followed his grandfather from the room and along the corridor. In the daylight, Lucius Malfoy's hair was such a pale shade of blonde mixed with silvery grey, and although he obviously didn't spend much time out of doors, he was far less ghostly in appearance.

After a journey across the house, during which Scorpius learned more of the manor's architecture, they reached a well lit room in which the walls were lined with evenly spaced portraits, each clearly depicting a member of the Malfoy family. In the middle of the room were displayed various curios, each more extraordinary than the last; a series of letters written by Salazar Slytherin, a fragment of Merlin's wand, a cabinet filled with various medals and tokens of success, the large skull of a Basilisk... it was fascinating. Just as Scorpius was getting carried away in taking in all of the treasures stored away, he heard a cough behind him and turned, embarrassed, towards Lucius, who was waiting by a portrait of a man with elaborately curled blonde hair and cold blue eyes. He was clad in a set of fancy if old-fasioned robes, and in one hand was held a peacock feather quill.

"Do you know who this is?" Lucius looked at him expectantly, and Scorpius crossed the room to join him, looking pleadingly at the canvas for a hint. None was forthcoming.

"I don't know, sir." Scorpius looked down at the wooden floorboards, disheartened, as he had failed his first lesson and had no wish to disappoint Lucius. If he was anything like his son, the old wizard would be less than pleased at Scorpius' failure. Wincing as his grandfather gave a sigh, Scorpius finally looked up.

"It is unfortunate, although of no real consequence." Lucius turned to the portrait. "Will you tell young Scorpius who you are?"

"Brutus Malfoy." The wizard inclined his head, and Scorpius returned the gesture in kind. "It is most gratifying to see that our name lives on, is it not?"

The surrounding portraits voiced their agreement, and Scorpius stood a little straighter, willing himself to cut an impressive figure.

"And what, if anything, do you know about him?" Lucius gestured towards the portrait, and the other representations of the family fell silent, listening closely.

"He was the first member of our family to own the copy of 'Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy' – his name's written on the flyleaf." Scorpius turned to his grandfather to see if his answer had been acceptable, and was relieved to see his mouth twitch in what was either amusement of approval. The portraits resumed their hushed conversations.

"This is true, however to the rest of the wizarding world knows him for his contribution to journalism, in particular through his post as editor of the renowned publication 'Warlock at War'." Lucius paused, allowing for the information to sink in, before addressing the portraits. "I encourage you all to speak freely to young Scorpius, the youngest of our descendants. He used the book of which he spoke to find our home in order to seek answers, truths which cannot be given without your assistance."

He placed a hand on Scorpius' shoulder and guided him around the room, making a few sparing comments in order to allow his grandson to concentrate on the words of their forefathers. Their circuit of the room was fascinating for Scorpius, who was amazed to discover the string of successes which belonged to his family. Hearing the colourful stories of the portraits made him wonder how his father could stand knowing that he had left their family behind and continue to do everything in his power to sever ties. Although he had expected to be ridiculed about his ignorance, he found that Lucius was a patient teacher, if a little distant – knowing that his father could abandon such a man, his own flesh and blood, made Scorpius' doubts of being accepted by Draco grow. He chose not to dwell on it, shaking his head as they arrived before the final portrait.

"And this is my own father, your great-grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy." The wizard in the portrait had an austere look about him that exceeded even that of his son, yet he bestowed a rare smile upon Scorpius. "You're Draco's son, I take it? It wasn't long ago that my son was parading your father around this room – tell me, boy, where is Draco?"

"A- At home, I think." Conscious that he had stuttered, Scorpius tilted his chin upwards and continued more forcefully – like his father did when crossed by fellow employees of the Ministry. "At any rate, I'm old enough to visit Lu- er, my own grandfather without him accompanying me."

Much like how he felt about Narcissa, Scorpius didn't feel comfortable addressing Lucius with such familiarity, especially since he was yet to weigh his having been a Death Eater against the image he had created of an unfortunate old man abandoned by his callous and delusional son.

"This one is just as insolent as you were." It was unclear whether or not Abraxas spoketo his son in good humour. Lucius tightened his grip on Scorpius' shoulder. "Remember the name you carry before you speak, boy."

"I'll try my best." Meeting the portrait's gaze for a final few seconds, Scorpius attempted to remain calm.

"See that he does." Nodding to Lucius, Abraxas disappeared from view as he walked from the side of his portrait. It was a clear dismissal, and Scorpius felt himself being steered towards the door. He cast a glance back at the row of artefacts lining the centre of the room before paying attention to what it was that Lucius was saying to him.

"A most interesting point was raised." For a dreadfully awkward moment, Scorpius thought that Lucius was going to mention the fact that he had been described as 'grandfather', however this was not the case. "By rights, it ought to have been your father who showed you that room." Stiffly, Lucius continued. "It was not my intent to intrude."

After a few seconds of walking, Scorpius realised that there was to be no further explanation and that he was expected to verbalise a response.

"I'm really glad that you did. Thanks." He turned and gave Lucius a tentative smile, unsure of how open he was allowed to be without breaching the older wizard's standards of decorum. The hand on his shoulder squeezed before taking hold of the banister. "Where is it we're going?"

"To the family dining room; I had the house elves open it up this morning." Lucius continued down the stairs, unaware of the thought process that he had unintentionally catalysed.

"Sir?" Scorpius didn't know how to phrase what he wanted to say without ruining the easy rapport that they had built through the morning. "May I ask you something?"

"You are not obliged to address me thusly, although if it makes you feel comfortable, then by all means continue to do so. Now, what is it that you wish to know?" Leading the way into a spacious yet intimate dining chamber, Lucius gestured for Scorpius to take the seat opposite his own at the small, rectangular table.

"Well..." Scorpius took his seat, unfolded and refolded his napkin. Bowls of food delicious looking appeared before them, though he no longer had the stomach for them.

"Spit it out, boy." There was a sharp quality to Lucius' voice that made him flinch as he recalled the reasoning behind his trip. As though to make up for his sudden outburst, Lucius flicked his wand and levitated a few choice bowls towards Scorpius. "Take some of the Yorkshire puddings and some stuffing – they were Narcissa's favourite parts of Christmas dinner, even if she was loathe to admit it."

Wordlessly, Scorpius helped himself to both. Still, he did not eat. He missed his mother. She would have known how to iron out the tension between him and Lucius, and help him settle upon a particular emotion to feel towards his grandfather.

"Do you have an owl that I could use? I'd like to send my mum a letter after lunch to let her know that I'm alright."

"I do, and if you ask your original question then you will be free to use him." Ever the tactician, Lucius cut into his food and began to eat. In order to occupy himself, Scorpius followed suit. Once his plate was clean, he accepted that he had been out-manoeuvred by his grandfather.

"Alright... Sir, do you think my father will disown me?" Scorpius kept his eyes steadily focussed on the glass of water by his hand. "I'm frightened that he will."

"Come and sit by my side." Pushing out the chair beside him, Lucius managed to overcome the problem of Scorpius whispering in the most tactful manner that occurred to him. "Explain to me why it is that you believe this will be the case."

And Scorpius did. He told his grandfather all about how different Hogwarts had been from the picture that his father had painted, of the burning injustice of James Potter's remarks, that he wasn't certain what was expected of him regarding the ideology of blood purity, how he felt as though his father had lied to him... It was cathartic, in some ways, to explain and Lucius made an excellent audience.

"I see." The older Malfoy clasped his hands, thoughtful. "Understand that nothing I promised your father during his own childhood came into fruition, and it is exceptionally difficult to abandon the foundations upon which your outlook on life was built."

Against his will, Scorpius felt a surge of sympathy towards his father.

"The family was every bit as important as he said..."

"The words Draco spoke to you reflected a reality that has passed. He will _not_ hold it against you, Scorpius. He knows that you are only a boy, although he follows in my example in failing to take that into account." For a moment, Lucius frowned. "There is much that you cannot know. You are his son, Scorpius. There is no plausible scenario in which he would give you up."

"He did it to you." Scorpius continued in earnest, determined to let his grandfather know in a subtle way that he would not abandon their newly forged relationship as his father had done. "There isn't a reason in the world that makes it okay, in my opinion."

"And yet you left him."

"Not forever!" Outraged, Scorpius stood. "And I only left because he doesn't want me."

"I beg to differ – according to your mother, he is determined to find you." Lucius dabbed at the corner of his mouth with the napkin, perfectly calm. "It isn't necessary for you to write to her, because we spoke via the floo network this morning, although as promised you are free to do so."

Scorpius could only stare.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Initially, I'd thought that this story would be a one-shot... I can't believe I even bothered trying to tell myself that this would be the final chapter. Somehow, it never works out that way. Star, I hope that you're still enjoying reading this because you are a lovely, supportive friend – a true Hufflepuff.**

**OoOoO**

"_Welcome to the family jewels_

_Coal to diamonds, sold to fools._

_Welcome to the family jewels_

_Simmer and suffer, can't keep his cool."_

**-Marina and the Diamonds, 'The Family Jewels'**

**OoOoO**

Scorpius continued to watch Lucius, his grandfather, mouth agape. He had never given it much thought until that moment however, it became clear to him why the Malfoy family had been housed in Slytherin for generations. What the old man had done was so very cunning and completely infuriating. Unconcerned by the shock of his young charge, Lucius refilled his teacup and smiled slightly at the taste of the brew – he was the quintessential English gentleman, it seemed. His initial surprise dulling, Scorpius managed to process what he had been told: his father was trying to find him. Whether this meant that Draco was concerned for his son's welfare or wished to punish him for all of the trouble he had caused, it was unclear. Scorpius realised that although fate had attempted to douse it, although the flame had flickered so much that he was certain it would have been extinguished, he still carried a hope that his father wanted him back. There was also the familiar sense of panic that he was wrong, that he was too much of a disappointment for paternal love to overcome his father's expectations of what an heir ought to be.

"Would you like to see her?" Distracting Scorpius from his train of thought, Lucius spoke in a neutral tone. Although he could be somewhat standoffish, to put it lightly, Scorpius got the impression that he could speak candidly.

"Wha- I mean, pardon sir?" Folding his hands behind his back, Scorpius tried not to shift under the scrutiny of the older wizard.

"Would you like to see your mother? The reason that I ask is because she seems terribly keen to ascertain for herself that you are safe and sound." Lucius gave a tired, self-deprecating smile. "I don't think that Astoria places much stock in my ability to care for a child."

"I'm sure that's not true – I mean, it's been really... interesting, staying with you. Kind of nice, I guess." Deeply embarrassed, Scorpius flushed. "I'll tell my mother that when I see her. Just because you're, well, so ancient, doesn't mean that you can't look after me."

Lucius' eyebrows rose so significantly that they were in danger of meeting with his hairline.

"I more meant that you ought to reassure her that I haven't inducted you into any kind of cult whilst you were in my care."

"Oh, I see." Scorpius examined his shoes, suddenly interested in the way in which the light was reflected by the polished leather. When he next spoke, his voice was quiet. "I'll still tell her that you took good care of me."

Lucius frowned slightly, and Scorpius wondered if he had overstepped the boundaries of their burgeoning relationship by choosing to voice his thoughts. When Lucius next spoke, his words were unsurprising in that they neatly sidestepped all of Scorpius' unvoiced queries.

"So you would be willing to see her this afternoon?" He waited patiently for an answer, eyes never once leaving Scorpius'.

The more thought that he gave it, the more Scorpius realised that he missed his mother. He felt so guilty for having left her without explanation, and confident that even if she was upset, she would forgive him.

"Yes, I think I'd like that. But I don't want to go home, sir. I can't..." Scorpius gestured helplessly, hoping that the perceptive older wizard would understand.

"In that case, we shall extend an invitation to Astoria immediately." Lucius too climbed to his feet, lifting his cane from where it had been balanced against the side of the table. "I'm far too old to get on my knees, child, so I would be much obliged if you would do the honours when we get back upstairs."

"What about my father?" Scorpius sighed. He couldn't decide whether or not he wanted Draco to come or not. "Should we invite him?"

"You already know the answer to that question, I think." As they reached the top of the stairs, Lucius squeezed his shoulder. A part of Scorpius suspected that this was not due to infirmity – his grandfather was old, certainly, but not _that_ old.

"Are you curious about seeing him? You were interested to see what I turned out like." Scorpius tried to keep his voice level like his grandfather had done, wishing to encourage Lucius to speak openly. Apparently he lacked Lucius' finesse, because his attempt was unsuccessful.

"I think that it would be best if I left you and your parents to discuss matters between yourselves." It was clear from Lucius' tone that he would tolerate no arguments on the subject. However, Scorpius didn't want to argue. He wanted to keep the bizarre feeling of security that his grandfather afforded him, and, more than that, he wanted to convince his father to forgive Lucius, which he couldn't do unless the wizard in question was present.

"Sir, I don't think that I can face him." It was true. Every time Scorpius considered his father, his stomach would lurch and his chest felt constricted by panic.

"Nonsense; you're perfectly capable of meeting both of your parents, as well you know." Behind the exasperation, there was encouragement from Lucius in those words. Still, Scorpius couldn't put aside his apprehension.

"If things don't... you know, work out, am I allowed to stay here? With you?" There were many things Scorpius would miss about his own home, should his father choose to disown him, his mother first and foremost amongst them.

"I – it will not come to that." Lucius spoke abruptly, the answer to his question remaining unclear to Scorpius.

"How do you know?" A note of desperation entered Scorpius' voice – they were perilously close to his grandfather's parlour, and once they were there he would be expected to summon his mother and father.

"I'm _ancient_, as you so delicately phrased it – I know everything." Realising that his quip had done nothing to alleviate Scorpius' fears, Lucius ceased walking and turned to face the boy. Reluctantly, Scorpius stopped walking too. He felt the cool, metallic head of the snake underneath his chin as his grandfather used his cane to force him to look upwards. "Scorpius, you are his son and so you mean more to your father than anything else in the world. I failed to realise how important Draco was to me until it was too late, and I have paid for that mistake every day since. From what your mother has said to me, I am confident that my son will not repeat my wrongs."

"Okay." Unconvinced, Scorpius decided not to press the matter – he didn't have the energy to explain again why it was that his father might never forgive him. "Even if he isn't angry, even if I end up going home, what happens to you?"

A strange smile passed across Lucius' face. His voice gruff, he gave a most Slytherin answer – that is to say, it was indirect.

"I have met you, Scorpius, and I am content with that." He removed the ring from his index finger and pressed it into Scorpius' unresisting hand before turning and continuing down the corridor.

The ring glittering in his palm prevented Scorpius from considering the meaning behind his grandfather's words. A snake made from silver, emerald between its teeth, had been given to him. The ring was identical to that worn by his father, the one heirloom Draco had not forsaken. It was still warm from being beside Lucius' skin. Although the band was far too large for Scorpius' fingers, even his thumb, he held it tightly in his fist. He knew that he couldn't leave without first having his father promise to allow him to visit Lucius now and then. Despite Lucius not having mentioned it, Scorpius imagined that his life alone in the Manor would be empty at best, saturated by guilt at worst.

"If my father doesn't want me to see you again, I'll come and visit the minute I turn seventeen." Scorpius tried to look as determined as he could, hoping that his grandfather would understand exactly how serious he was. "I promise."

Giving no indication that he had heard, Lucius entered his parlour and disappeared from view. Working on the theory that he could not be seen, Scorpius ran after his grandfather and closed the door behind him.

"You are a kind boy, Scorpius, although in some respects you are very naive – as it should be, I suppose. I had lost sight of how young you truly are, and so, should you still wish it to be so, I will remain with you until you are comfortable enough to speak to your father alone." He gave Scorpius' shoulder a final squeeze and then gestured towards the fireplace. "You ought to invite your parents now, I think."

"Thank you!" Although he didn't appreciate being described as a naive child, he imagined that Lucius would be almost as nervous about seeing Draco as he was, perhaps even more so. Scorpius fought the urge to wrap his arms around the older wizard, instead settling for squeezing the ring more tightly in his now sweating palm.

Lucius made no reply. He was eyeing the scotch decanter as though lamenting that, due to social etiquette, it was still much too early for a sly nip of Ogden's finest. Turning away from his grandfather, Scorpius lifted a handful of floo powder from the jar on the mantle. He tossed it into the fire and knelt on the hearth. Unwilling to betray his discomfort, Scorpius recited his home address and hoped desperately that his mother would be there instead of his father. Sure enough, almost as soon as he stuck his head into the fire, his mother was kneeling before him as though she had been anticipating his attempt to make contact. This made Scorpius wonder, briefly, how much Lucius had discussed with her. Astoria was, as always, impeccably dressed, however her eyes were red and the skin around them puffy. Scorpius forgot his curiosity when she smiled at him, unintentionally causing her son to experience a pang of guilt.

"Hello son." With her usual gusto, Astoria blew him a kiss, inadvertently causing the flames around his head to dance wildly. Despite himself, Scorpius laughed.

"Mum..." He wished that it was easier to explain everything to her, because if anyone deserved the truth, it was his mother. "I'm sorry for leaving you like that and staying out overnight without telling you – I shouldn't have worried you."

Astoria's smile faded for a second, causing her son to suspect that she was reliving the fear she had doubtlessly experienced when she found her only child's bed empty and his trunk gone.

"I'm not angry, Scorpius. I'm disappointed that you felt as though you couldn't talk to me, because you're my son and I will _always_ listen to you, however I realise that you were very upset... and that was partially my fault." Astoria's voice was quiet, free of its usual vivacity. Once more, Scorpius felt wretched for causing her so much hurt.

"Don't say that, mum. It isn't true." He heard Lucius shifting on his armchair and remembered the purpose of his fire-call. "I was – actually, we were wondering if you would like to come to Malfoy Manor."

"Won't you come back home? We can talk here, you know. You have nothing to worry about, Scorpius – your father just wants to have you back. He isn't cross with you." Astoria's words were reassuring, and yet Scorpius didn't want to go back to his house. He was considering his response when, as though summoned by his wife's words, Draco stepped into the study.

He looked as though he had slept in his clothes, he hadn't shaved and his skin was pale. The resemblance between him and Lucius was striking, in that moment. There was an awkward pause as father and son locked gaze.

"Scorpius, I -" Shaking his head, Draco walked closer to the fireplace and paced back and forth. Scorpius could see no higher than his knees and so had no way of attempting to analyse his father's facial expression. "There are many things we must discuss, and so you ought to come home."

"I can't do that yet." He tried to keep the whine from his voice, inwardly blaming the soot for his difficulty speaking. "It's not that I don't... like our house, but I want to stay here with Lucius."

Astoria turned away, frowning slightly. It seemed as though she was considering the relationship between her husband and her father-in-law, which she had attempted to avoid mentioning earlier in the conversation – Scorpius had noticed only because of how much he wanted his parents to come to the Manor and was wary of obstacles. There was no way he could hold his nerve before them without Lucius, whose presence made Scorpius feel secure – the man had shown him that to be a Malfoy was to be someone special, after all.

Much to his surprise, Draco joined his wife and knelt by the fire. He looked directly into Scorpius' eyes, clearly wishing to stress the importance of what it was that he was preparing to say.

"Come back home now, son, and I'll explain everything you need to know – just come on through the fire and away from my father. You know nothing about what he's like or the things that he's done. Don't listen to a single, poisonous word that he tells you." A strange kind of desperation crept into his voice. When he saw Scorpius open his mouth to object, Draco rushed on with his explanation. "Just come away from my father, Scorpius, and quickly. He's a cruel, sadistic old shell of a human being, and he will destroy you if and when you show the first sign of weakness -"

"Don't say things like that about him!" Horrified by his father's vitriolic rant, Scorpius crawled backwards and withdrew his head from the fire, falling backwards in an ungainly heap. The connection was severed and the flames returned to their usual orange.

"Well?" Lucius examined him over the top of his newspaper. It wasn't immediately clear whether or not he had heard both sides of the conversation, and Scorpius didn't know – he wasn't vastly experienced with the floo network and was never allowed to sit in for any of Draco's business-related networking, so he hadn't witnessed it from such a perspective. "What happened, my boy?"

Scorpius felt his cheeks burning. He wasn't sure how to explain the details of the conversation, in particular its conclusion, without mentioning what had been said about his grandfather.

"My mother was waiting, I think... She says she isn't upset with me, and she said that Dad wasn't either, but when he came into the room..." Scorpius climbed quickly to his feet, wiping dust from his trousers.

"Yes?" Folding the _Daily Prophet_, Lucius gave the boy his full attention. "And _was_ your father angry?"

"Er, I couldn't tell sir." Scorpius couldn't meet the older wizard's gaze, sure that those wise old eyes would pick up on what he was trying to conceal in an instant.

"You mean to say that you were not the object of his displeasure." The lack of response told Lucius all that he needed to know. With a deep sigh, he stood. "You needn't tell me what he said if it makes you uncomfortable, Scorpius."

"Thanks." Scorpius was considering what else to say, because when the fireplace roared into life, the words were wiped clean from his mind. His father stepped from the fireplace, a caged look in his eyes, and took in his surroundings.

Scorpius wondered what had changed since he had last been in the manor – maybe there were fewer of the dark artefacts that the Weasley children often teased him about. When Draco's eyes locked with his father's, they took an an almost murderous rage. In comparison, Lucius looked positively calm. He didn't flinch when his son raised his wand. Certainly, Scorpius knew that his father could and would succeed where he had not, should he choose to engage Lucius in combat, a prospect which was looking more likely with every passing second. Only Scorpius seemed to notice when his mother stepped from the fireplace. She placed a gentle hand on her husband's arm and, to Scorpius' amasement, his father yielded and lowered his wand.

"Draco, Astoria, I would like to thank you both for accepting our invitation." When Lucius spoke, Scorpius imagined that he must have been an excellent host during the highlight of his career. He was genial and pleasant, nothing about his demeanour suggesting that he had almost been attacked by his own son. "I am sure that Scorpius is every bit as delighted to see you as I am -"

"You leave my son out of this. Don't you dare try and mix him up with your plotting." Pulling away from his wife, Draco moved forward. It appeared as though he was going to curse his father, still standing benignly, however he stopped beside Scorpius and crouched beside him. Scorpius clenched the ring in his pocket, remaining unnaturally still as his father placed a hand on his shoulder. "Scorpius, I would like it very much if you came home, and so would your mother. I've failed you in so many ways, and I'd like to make up for that now. Just come away from this place."

Draco had addressed his son with more humility than Scorpius had thought him capable of, and his words struck a chord. Perhaps, Scorpius thought, it was because they were so familiar.

"That's almost exactly what your father said about you." Wishing to dissuade his father from insulting Lucius again, Scorpius continued to speak, not even attempting to decipher his father's facial expression. "I _do_ want to come home, but things are... easier here. They make more sense to me, and I don't have to worry that Lucius is going to decide that I'm not good enough to be related to him."

Slowly, his father stood, stunned into silence. Astoria hovered behind him, biting her lip uncertainly as though unsure who she ought to be comforting and how best to go about it.

"Scorpius, don't be unkind. I'm certain that your father never has never once thought anything of the sort -" Lucius gave the rebuke gently, but it grated on Scorpius' nerves all the same. He had tried his hardest to explain how things had been, and now it felt as though the old wizard was dismissing his perspective entirely.

Before Scorpius could decide whether or not to contradict his grandfather, Draco spoke, every word dripping with pure loathing.

"I understand what it is that you're trying to do now – you're trying to turn my own son against me. He told you that he was upset with me and you're taking advantage of that knowledge. You're trying to punish me for leaving you behind." Pink spots appeared on Draco's cheeks, the only colour to him. The vehemence with which he had spoke frightened Scorpius – it was as though his father was now beyond rational thought.

"Calm down, Draco." Astoria made to reach for his arm once more, but this time her husband evaded her and moved closer to his father. He was, Scorpius saw, quite literally shaking with rage. Not even during the terrible argument with his mother that had taken place before his departure had Scorpius seen his father so angry, so unbalanced. It scared him.

"Dad, none of that is true. He explained to me that what you did with the Death Eaters – that none of it was really your fault. You were just a kid, and Lucius said that he didn't..." Sensing that mentioning his grandfather would only heighten his father's anger, Scorpius rapidly changed his approach. "I know that you were right about our family, in some ways, so I'm sorry about everything that I said – please don't hurt him, okay?"

His words didn't seem to register with Draco at all.

"Listen to your son, Draco. The boy plainly idolises you, and even if I wanted to, I could say nothing to change that -" Lucius fell silent as, once more, his son interrupted him. It was a curious scenario to witness, because from what he had learned of the life the stern Malfoy patriarch had once led, Scorpius didn't think that he was the kind of man to tolerate anything of the sort.

"Since when were you qualified to give out advice on childcare? You were an appaling father. You were too weak to even try to protect me, in fact you threw me to the wolves to save your own skin – have you told Scorpius the full truth about that, father? I'm willing to bet that you're just as selfish now as you were then." As Draco spoke, his words chipped away at his father's calm facade until Lucius looked as though he was about to crumble, strong marble into dust and powder.

"What do you mean, Dad?" Trying to resolve the mounting conflict, Scorpius engaged his father once again. Draco gave a humourless smirk, his point seemingly proven.

"My father was once one of the Dark Lord's most trusted followers, but the Dark Lord grew particularly annoyed with him after the prophecy was destroyed on his watch. He then suggested to dear old dad that I became a Death Eater – it was a punishment, but it was our only opportunity to salvage the reputation of the Malfoys, and he grabbed it with both hands. I was sixteen years old, and it was a suicide mission." Draco spoke dispassionately, his words all the more terrible for their lack of emotion. Scorpius looked to Lucius for confirmation, but his grandfather didn't meet his gaze. "Now do you understand why I didn't want you to be exposed to such a person, Scorpius? It's for your own safety. Let's go home now."

Scorpius had known it was foolish to think that he could simply rid himself of all of his disappointment in the space of a day – it had returned to him twofold. He didn't know what to think or who to trust. He didn't want to look at Lucius or Draco. Before anyone could react, Scorpius ran out of the living room and into the corridor, racing towards the staircase. Silently, he wished that he could have had a normal family; he would have settled for the Potters or the Weasleys, if it meant escaping all of the poisonous thoughts and feelings that had eaten away at his own.

Although it was a rather obvious choice, Scorpius returned to his father's old bedroom. He tapped his wand against the door and locked it before stuffing his wand into his pocket. His hand met cool metal, and for a moment Scorpius wondered what he had been carrying until the ring surfaced in his memories. He sat with his back to the door, despite knowing that it wouldn't prevent any competent wizard from entering, and lifted the ring from his pocket. Such a short while ago, it had brought him comfort... Frustrated, he threw it away with such force that it ricoched from the opposite wall and rolled back towards him, veering off at an angle as it lost speed and coming to rest underneath the bed.

The ring glinted in the light as though taunting him.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	5. Chapter 5

**And here it is – the final chapter. I have enjoyed writing this story immensely and hope that it has been interesting for you to read... interesting enough for you to leave a review.**

**OoOoO**

"_Falling down like dominoes,_

_Hit by family jewels."_

**-Marina and the Diamonds, 'The Family Jewels'**

**OoOoO**

He had known that sooner or later, someone would follow him. That person was almost always his mother, and although he wanted to be alone, Scorpius found it reassuring when, sure enough, there was a soft knock on the door. He could always count on her to take care of him – always – because Astoria Malfoy was the most reliable person in his life. Certainly, his mother was not without pride of her own; she took great personal pride in her appearance, her role as a mother and whatever charitable event she was in charge of organising, however, her pride had never once threatened to come between her and Scorpius, an aspect of their relationship he appreciated more than almost any other.

"Scorpius, may I come in?" Her voice was light and casual, for which he was thankful. Scorpius was sorely tempted to give in and allow his mother entry, but if he did then it would be more difficult to keep his father out. "I think that I'd like to join you in there. We can make a tent, if you'd like."

"I'm not a little kid anymore, you know, and your stupid tent isn't going to solve anything." Scorpius regretted his words as soon as he had spoken them – they felt like a betrayal of the tenderness in their relationship. When he had been small and feeling ill, nothing had given him more pleasure than when his mother had removed the cover from the duvet and constructed a tent for him to recover in. She had wrapped him in blankets and read him stories until he felt better again. "Sorry Mum, I didn't mean it. You can come in."

Standing up, Scorpius opened the door for his mother and closed it behind her. Once again, he locked it magically. Astoria didn't comment on this, instead going straight to work on the covers. It had been a long time since his last tent was created, and Scorpius was pleased to see that the end result lived up to his memories. He kicked off his shoes and pulled back the flap of the tent for his mother. Astoria smiled as she removed her heels – more carefully than Scorpius had done his own shoes. She bent down to place them side by side and picked up the ring.

"Did Lucius give this to you?" She gave no sign of recognising the design. Scorpius nodded. "That was very generous of him. I hope that you thanked him."

"I did." His response was curt. Scorpius wasn't sure what to make of Lucius Malfoy. The old wizard had been so kind to him, in that gruff way of his, and yet what he had done to his father left Scorpius feeling as though he had been doused in a bucket of cold water. It was horrible. It was impossible to justify, which Lucius seemed fully aware of. And yet, Scorpius didn't want to lose Lucius' presence in his life. His grandfather had enjoyed his company, and Scorpius knew that he would be lying to himself if he said that he had found it anything less than pleasant.

"Of course you did – you're growing up to be a fine young man." Kissing the top of his head, Astoria crawled into the tent rather unceremoniously. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her head almost touching the ceiling of the makeshift tent. Scorpius followed her. He flopped onto his back and looked up at the canopy.

The interior of their tent was pleasant, gentle green light filtering through the duvet cover from the windows. In it, Scorpius could imagine that there was only enough room for he and his mother – none of his worries.

"I missed you every day at Hogwarts, Mum." Scorpius didn't have to look at his mother to know that she would be wearing one of her smiles that were both sad and happy – they confused him a great deal.

"I missed you too. However, I suspect that there are lots of things that you like about school, or enough things to make you glad to be there, at least." As always, Astoria reminded her son to keep things in perspective, not that he was conscious of her prompting. Scorpius was too glad that his mother was coping with his absence to think to read into her words.

"Yeah. I like going to my Potions lessons, and some other classes too. Although staying with other people can be a bit annoying, I like it that there's always something to do at Hogwarts. I'm even thinking of trying out for the Slytherin quidditch team next year." Scorpius missed certain aspects of Hogwarts very much, his friends included, and there were plenty of things he was looking forward to trying for himself. However, the taunting of James Potter was one thing that he could quite happily live without. A shadow must have passed across his face, because Astoria became concerned.

"Scorpius, will you tell me what's stopping you from being happy at school? I want you to feel like you did before all of this, like you're able to talk to me properly. What I'm trying to say is that if you were to tell me what it is that those children say when they're teasing you, I think that your father and I could help you." Astoria smoothed his fringe back from his face and fell silent, giving her son time to reach a decision by himself.

"Maybe... Only if you'll promise not to tell Dad – I don't want him to know about it." Although he was incapable of letting go of all of the anger he felt towards his father, Scorpius was also conscious that he felt a growing sense of sympathy – although the sixth years of Hogwarts seemed like adults to him, they were still very young in the scheme of things.

Scorpius himself was plagued by uncertainties, and he doubted that they would be resolved in the space of five years. He knew that he still needed his parents' advice and that his father, although strong and contained, had most likely relied on his own parents just as much during his own youth, if not more. And they had failed him in more ways than Scorpius could begin to understand, worse than Draco had ever failed him.

With a soft sigh, Astoria said exactly the words her son had anticipated.

"You know that I can't promise anything of the sort." She looked on helplessly as Scorpius shook his head in refusal to her original question. They had reached an impasse. "Is it really so bad?"

Shrugging, Scorpius made no effort to prolong the conversation. It was irritating him and he wanted calm in order to get his thoughts in order. Ever perceptive, Astoria changed the subject, although he could sense her reluctance. Scorpius was grateful.

"You seem to like Lucius."

"Yeah, he's okay." Scorpius spoke flippantly, uncertain of his mother's attitude towards the Malfoy patriarch in question.

"Yes? Scorpius, you know very well that people are a lot more interesting than a game of Gobstones or a set of robes. It's alright to tell me about your time here. In fact, I'd love to know." Giving him an encouraging smile, Astoria waited for her son to speak.

"It's been nice, I guess. I mean, I was a bit scared when I first got here, but Lucius was really kind to me. He gave me cocoa and showed me all of these portraits of his ancestors, which was really, really amazing. Did you know that Brutus Malfoy was the editor of Warlock at War, or that we were related to the Black family? But... Mum? I think he seems kind of sad." Scorpius looked at his mother intently. Throughout his life, she had seemed capable of making anything better, and although he was becoming increasingly aware that this belief was rather foolish, he wasn't quite ready to relinquish it.

"Yes, well... Your grandfather hasn't had the easiest of lives, and he has a lot to live with." She maintained a neutral tone, which was helpful to Scorpius, as he was having enough trouble trying to sort out whom it was that he ought to condemn or forgive.

"Hmm. I think he's lonely."

"Lonely? Scorpius, Lucius isn't the type of man who would..." Astoria bit her lip, frowning slightly. "It is very sweet of you to worry about him, but there are some things that we can't change, no matter how much we would like to – the result of the choices your grandfather has made happens to be one of those things."

"I wish that he had tried to stop Lord Voldemort from making Dad a Death Eater." The wish was so intense that Scorpius felt himself grow frustrated by how impossible it really was. There was no point in dwelling on what might have been, he knew, and yet Scorpius found himself longing for this alternate reality, or at least the less serious moral implications that it contained.

"I think that everyone does, Scorpius, although if he had then Lucius would have been killed. Your father too, most likely. We may not like how things happened, but it's certainly not the worst possible outcome, is it?"

Scorpius had been thinking of an answer when he heard a knock on the door. He tensed when his father's voice reached them through the covers.

"There you are. It's been years since I last saw my old bedroom." There was a pause, and Scorpius knew that his father would be looking around the room. His shadow was visible through the bed sheets. "Scorpius, I shouldn't have involved you in my argument with my father. When I'm around him, my judgement... is not what it could be. You summed up that feeling very well, actually, before your departure. What are you doing under the bedclothes?"

"It's a tent, Dad. Mum made a tent." Scorpius was on edge, waiting for his father to criticise him for being juvenile.

"Oh, really? How quaint."

"Draco..." Astoria crawled forwards and pulled back the flat of the tent, silently communicating with her husband – or so it seemed to Scorpius, for the subtle language of gestures that belonged to adults was often indecipherable to him – that it would be best for him to accept their current activity if he hoped for reconciliation. His father perched on the edge of the mattress and turned awkwardly to look at the interior of the tent.

"It looks like... fun, I suppose." Draco attempted to smile. To Scorpius, the term sounded alien on his father's lips. He realised that his father was making an attempt, however unnatural it seemed, to try and connect with him.

"Do you want to come in? It might be a bit too small, but..." Scorpius sat up a little straighter, surprised by the way that, despite his reservations, he wanted his father to climb under the blanket and join them.

"I can fix that." With a quick wave of his wand, Draco caused the pillows and cushions to surround the base of the blanket and provide the foundations for a new, taller tent that was big enough to accommodate all three of them. He then climbed through the flap and sat down, his tie askew.

Scorpius smiled tentatively.

"So my dear old Dad gave you the tour, did he?" Despite the way in which he had failed to suppress the sneer in his voice as he mentioned his father, Draco sounded curious. He stretched languidly, his posture surprisingly relaxed. Maybe he liked the security of the tent too.

"Yeah, it was fascinating – really cool." Scorpius smiled at the memory.

"Will you have your own portrait hung up there, do you think?" Draco was watching Scorpius carefully, regarding him not as an extension of himself, but as his own person capable of making choices.

"Only if I manage to create an easy method of time travel or something like that; I don't really fancy having Scorpius junior and all of his kids thinking I've done nothing with my life." Scorpius was being perfectly serious – the last thing he wanted was to be the weak link in the chain – and so he was ill-prepared for his father's reaction: laughter. At first he scowled, thinking that he was being mocked, but when his mother joined in Scorpius noticed that his father's face was without a hint of condescension. In fact, mirth was written clearly all over his features.

"You needn't worry." Finally, Draco had ceased laughing, although his eyes had been softened by good humour. "I doubt that we were the first to be apprehensive about earning the privilege of having our portraits hung up in the gallery."

"You think?"

"I know. And some time I'll tell you more about it." Draco smiled at his son in a way that struck him as being uncharacteristically affectionate, and Scorpius couldn't help but return his grin. "Shall we go home, son? I promise you that things will get better – easier. I'm going to have to work to earn it back, however I need you to trust my judgement."

In a way, Scorpius had always known that going home was inevitable. What he hadn't anticipated was that the idea left him feeling relieved, even if it meant that his life couldn't go on being the same as it was before his time in the Malfoy Manor. He gave in to the temptation to think of his situation optimistically and put faith in his parents.

"Alright, yeah." Crawling out of the tent, Scorpius put his shoes back on and, as his parents fumbled with their own respective footwear, toyed with his newly acquired ring. It was too big for even his thumb, and yet he didn't want to put it into his pocket.

"Careful you don't lose that, Scorpius. Do you want me to look after it for you?" Astoria watched her son expectantly as she buckled her heels, her question voiced in a way that let him know that she would accept either choice.

"No thanks – I'll look after it." Sheepishly, Scorpius recalled the way he had thrown the ring shortly before his mother's arrival and made a silent vow to take better care of it than even his prized broomstick; it was, after all, an heirloom.

"What have you got there, son?" Draco watched with interest as his son uncurled his fingers to reveal the ring sitting on his palm. An inscrutable frown shaped his features momentarily, although he didn't appear to be angry. "I see. You must have impressed my father very much."

"I guess." Any delight Scorpius may have taken in the note of pride that had entered his father's voice was dampened by the realisation that he was going to have to leave Lucius Malfoy behind – there was no place for the old wizard in his son's life.

"Shall we go upstairs and thank Lucius for taking care of you before we leave?" Astoria gestured for her son to lead the way from the room, and Scorpius knew that his father had very little interest in seeing Lucius again before they returned home. Both of them lingered in the bedroom to oversee the packing and shrinking of Scorpius' trunk and, he knew, to have a discussion. He wasn't sure if Draco was complying as a favour to himself or his mother. Either way, it made him glad. He didn't want to say goodbye to his grandfather – to abandon him as callously as his father had done.

Scorpius climbed the stairs as quickly as he could, short of breaking into a run and entered Lucius' parlour without knocking. Lucius simply stared. Judging by his facial expression, he had planned on chastising Scorpius for bursting in so suddenly, however it seemed as though he must have understood what was bothering him due to some vestiges of the paternal instinct that fathering Draco had left him with.

"You ought to leave with them, my boy. Draco and Astoria are your parents and they love you dearly – you know it. You are also clever enough to know that the remainder of your holidays will pass more pleasantly if you put aside your differences. Am I right?" It was with a disarmingly measured rationality that Lucius spoke, and his grandson couldn't think of the words to articulate his counter-argument.

"I don't want to leave you here by yourself, sir!" Scorpius felt frustrated and desperate. He knew that he needed to convince Lucius so that, by the time his parents arrived in the room, they could present a united front. "Please, please come to say goodbye to me at platform nine and three-quarters. Promise?"

Lucius smiled sadly, a tender look passing across his face as he took in the earnestness of Scorpius' expression. He stood, bringing one hand to rest on the boy's shoulder.

"Unfortunately, I have urgent business to attend to on the day that your term resumes. However, should you so wish it, I will remain in contact with you – you have my word."

Lucius was rewarded with two angular, pre-pubescent arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Tentatively, he patted the top of Scorpius' head, comparing his fluffy blonde hair to that of his own son. It was in this position that Draco found his father and his son.

"Scorpius, we're going now." Draco stood in the doorway, his wife by his side. Scorpius squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face against Lucius' smoking jacket, holding onto the futile hope that he could stop time simply by refusing to observe it pass.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin, Draco, let them be. You may be eager to leave your father, but your little boy is going to miss him terribly and there's nothing that you or I can do to change that." From the way Astoria spoke, it was clear that she was wary of her father-in-law, most likely because she knew better than anyone save for Draco how his parenting had influenced her husband's life.

"I don't want to leave him here on his own! It's the saddest thing I can think of. Please say I can visit him, Dad. You don't even have to come with me, if you don't want to, but I really think that you should forgive him if you can." Waiting for an answer, Scorpius tightened his hold on his grandfather so much so that Lucius was forced to gently pry his arms away.

"Scorpius, it is enough that you wish to decide for yourself, but your father is a grown man and capable of making his own decisions." Lucius spoke gently yet firmly, a balance which allowed Scorpius to accept what he was being told. It appeared as though his composure was not to deteriorate further in the face of his son's hostility, for which Scorpius was glad, although he imagined that the rift between them still weighed on Lucius' mind.

"Very well, although never, ever in public." Draco looked from his son to his father. "I won't have you ruin his future before it has even started."

With that, he moved to wait by the fireplace. Unwilling to further test his patience and risk their newfound peace, Scorpius broke away from his grandfather and joined his parents as they prepared to return home.

"Draco? Thank you." Lucius inclined his head towards his only child and watched as his only remaining family filed through the fireplace and into their own home.

He gave Scorpius a final smile, reminding the boy of the promise he had made. Lucius knew that he wouldn't miss seeing the emergence of the man that boy would grow into for anything. Although it wasn't going to be the life he had envisioned for his descendents, there was something about Scorpius that left him certain that he would thrive in a world of meritocracy.

Scorpius waved, stepping into the flames after his mother. He was confident that things would get better. He also hoped, even though he knew it to be naive, that his father would come with him to visit Lucius Malfoy. Blood was thicker than water, after all.

**OoOoO**

It was with a hint of his old pride that Lucius Malfoy stepped through the gates of his manor house. For the first time in several years, he had ventured out into the realm of the public, and it was a relief to return home. The world was less changed than he had imagined. The January winds still carried a chill that had the power to slice through skin and permeate bones, and the landscape of the countryside looked exactly the same blanketed in snow as it had done twenty years beforehand. Fewer people had recognised him than he had anticipated. Whereas once this would have wounded his pride, it was now a relief that the people of the wizarding community had all but forgotten their once fervent wish to see him in Azkaban – at least, to the extent that he was not met with open aggression.

It turned out that, no matter how hard the Potter boy and his friends had sought to weed out corruption, the currency of the realm was still gold. And gold he still had an abundance of, even if his influence was nothing more than a memory.

As he swept up the pathway leading to the doors, Lucius realised that he was going to have to oversee the maintenance of his gardens more carefully. The fountain in the middle of the lawn wasn't running, most likely due to the layer of ice coating its surface, however underneath would be years' worth of leaves and moss and Merlin only knew what other filth. As for the grass poking up between the slushy snow, it would need to be cut as soon as the ground thawed.

Distracted by these thoughts, Lucius almost didn't notice the blonde figure waiting for him in the entrance hall. Draco was standing by the fireplace, as though trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible and also in the hope that he wouldn't be forced to venture deeper into what had once been his home.

"Ah, Draco. What a pleasant surprise. Would you care to join me for afternoon tea?" His words echoed throughout the room, though spoken quietly. Lucius had quickly recovered his skill for the art of conversation.

"No, Father." He took a slow step forward, and then another. It was then that Lucius realised that his son must know what he had done, as Draco would never have deigned to visit him without great reason.

"Then perhaps something stronger? I could use a dash of Ogden's Finest to warm up." Lucius waited, watching his son with mild curiosity. Although he had learned a lot about Draco's preferred methods of fatherhood, he had witnessed very little of it firsthand, and so was keen to see how he would have taken the news.

"Alright." Clearly uncomfortable, Draco began to make his way up the stairs, a thousand different memories playing out behind his eyes.

Although his compliance had surprised Lucius, he did not let it show as he followed his son up to his parlour. Draco sat uncomfortably on the sofa, his posture reminiscent of Scorpius as he had sat fidgeting under his scrutiny, and watched as his father removed the stopper from the decanter.

"I'd imagine that I have long since missed the boat, but I had always planned on inviting you up here for your first real drink – I don't mean the watered down wines that your mother would allow you when she thought that I wasn't looking." Lucius had known that the mention of Narcissa would catch his son's attention, as would the fact that he had noticed more than he had ever let on about Draco's relationship with his mother. He smiled and poured the amber liquid into two crystal tumblers, one of which he handed to his son. "To Scorpius. May this new school term live up to his expectations."

He tipped his glass in a toast to his absent grandson. Draco mimicked the gesture before taking a drink of the whisky, shuddering as it burned the back of his throat.

"It's you, isn't it? This anonymous new governor. That's why you didn't come to the Kingscross to see him off." Draco watched as his father sunk into the armchair. When he had seemed younger, his father's presence had filled every room of the house. Seeing him affected by age forced him to think of Lucius as a man rather than an omnipresent force.

"I wasn't under the impression that I would have been welcome."

"No, perhaps not." He paused as though trying to decide whether or not to continue. "I could tell that Scorpius was upset about it."

"Unfortunate, yet necessary; I had business with the Headmaster." Lucius tilted the tumbler and watched the contents swirl. He knew that Draco was still watching him.

"How the bloody hell did you manage it? After the Carrows, I didn't think they'd let another Death Eater anywhere near Hogwarts." So great was his astonishment that Draco couldn't conceal it.

"Yes, well, since the war ended, the school has spent an awful lot of money on repairs. It was rebuilt almost from scratch, or so I'm told."

"Then I won't need to go back there – to speak to him about the Potter brat." Draco sounded relieved. Naturally, the last thing he would want was to return to Hogwarts. He had lived through too much there, and learned of his greatest failings. "You did all that for my son. Thank you."

"Not just for him. Your mother suggested it."

Years too late, once the greatest dangers had passed, Lucius had tried to protect his son. He knew that it wasn't nearly enough, but it was better than nothing.

"Even so, you didn't have to..." They sat in silence for several moments. "He's a good boy, isn't he Dad?"

In Draco's words, Lucius sensed not only pride, but a fleeting desire for approval.

"Scorpius is a remarkably insightful child. Compassionate, too. I think that he looks for good in people before anything else." These were not typically Slytherin traits, and yet they would serve Scorpius well when coupled with his cunning. Lucius could scarcely believe that an eleven year old child had given him the courage to speak to his wife's portrait after so many years.

"He's very like his mother." Draco downed the last of his whisky, setting the glass on the table between them. "Be sure and write to him this evening – he has faith in you, and I won't have you let him down."

"Naturally. You have done a good job raising him, Draco. Would you care for another drink?" Lucius made to stand, but before he could climb to his feet, his son shook his head.

"No, thank you. I'd better head home – Astoria's waiting." Draco stood and began to move towards the fireplace.

"Of course. Send her my regards." Having seen the way Astoria was with her son, Lucius knew that it would be hard for her to have said goodbye to him again that morning. Probably, she would take it with less stoicism than Narcissa had, although with no more feeling.

"Scorpius has a week off in the beginning of the spring. We've discussed it between us, and if he still wants to, he may visit you for dinner, assuming that you don't object." Draco spoke stiffly as he took the floo powder from the jar on the mantle, not quite meeting his father's eyes.

"He's most welcome here, as are you and Astoria."

"That depends on work." It was a lie, and they both knew it. However, a lie was better than an outright refusal by a long stretch, so Lucius didn't press the matter. "Goodbye, Father. I'll let you know when Scorpius can come over closer to the time."

"I shall write to him now. Goodbye, Draco. It was good to see you again."

Draco paused before he stepped into the flames, although he did not look back. And then he was gone, leaving Lucius alone in the house. Only, he wasn't quite alone – he had a lot to hope for, and the future of his youngest descendent to oversee.

Finishing the last of his whisky, Lucius walked over to his writing desk, wondering if Scorpius too had worked out the identity of the latest governor of Hogwarts. Even if he hadn't, Lucius didn't mind. He didn't need to take credit for what he had done; it was enough that the boy could be happy at school.

**OoOoO**

**The end. Thanks for reading! Please, please leave me a review.**


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